


Silk

by Traxits



Series: Silk for Bravery, Gold for Honor [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst, Crossdressing, Culture Shock, Episode: s01e04 The Warriors of Kyoshi, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Feminization, IDENTITY SHENANIGANS, M/M, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Pretend Betrothal, Pretend Princess, Prisoner of War, SO MANY IDENTITY SHENANIGANS, Sokka in a Dress, Work In Progress, culture clash, handjobs, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 75,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traxits/pseuds/Traxits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iroh offered him a strange smile, one that bordered between his usual goofy grins and something harder; almost cruel. Something that seemed much more at home on the Dragon of the West's face than the uncle that Zuko knew. "Make him be the unreasonable one. <i>Bend</i> him to you instead of trying to break him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Capture and Demands

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is an alternate timeline fic set at a change in episode 4 (the Warriors of Kyoshi) of season 1, where Aang and Sokka and Katara all stop that the Kyoshi island. Originally, I planned on submitting this story for Kinked, a big bang on Dreamwidth.org, but sadly, I missed the deadline, and after rereading it, decided it really wasn’t all that thematically appropriate.

He wasn't going to make it. Sokka had seen that the moment that he had locked in combat with that bastard of a prince. The Kyoshi warrior dress was far heavier than the tribal garb he was used to wearing. As he did his best to avoid fire blast after fire blast, he spotted Katara across the town. Suki had her by the arm and was dragging her away; Suki was a good girl— and not just a girl, but a warrior. She knew what was happening, understood that there was no other way for this to end.

Instead of drawing attention to them by shouting, Sokka adjusted his grip on the fan. He forced the prince to watch him, to continue the fight; he didn't dare let up, even when the flames skated over his arm. He could smell the smoke from the village burning. He could smell burning flesh, could hear the screams of the villagers as they ran through the village. Water sizzled as they tried to put out the fires. He screeched when a hand wrapped in his hair, and then the water poured out of the sky. The Unagi soaked everyone, and the fight was suddenly over.

Zuko spun around, his hand still tight in Sokka's hair, as he snarled and shouted his orders. "Don't lose sight of him! Back to the ship!"

Sokka struggled to get free, gasping when he felt the steam pouring off of Zuko's skin. The firebender boiled the water off of his skin and clothes, and Sokka jerked as far as he could to get away from it. Zuko seemed to remember him in that moment and glared down at him. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved, and then the Fire Nation soldiers ran up behind them.

Zuko didn't say a word, only jerked Sokka along behind him, hand still tight around his ponytail, as they ran to the ship. Sokka's heart stopped as he realized what was happening. Appa faded away into the distance, Suki and Katara both looking back toward the island.

They had left him.

It wasn't like they'd had a choice. Zuko would have destroyed the whole town in an attempt to grab Aang, and they couldn't let that happen. They were there to protect Aang, and if protecting him meant being left behind, so be it. It was his duty to suffer through it.

So he sulked in the small room that they'd stuck him in. He wasn't a bender, so they didn't even bother posting a guard. Instead, they had locked the door from the outside, and he was trapped. It was humiliating, knowing that Aang or Katara could have gotten out of that mess, but he couldn't. Not without some kind of outside help or a skill set that he didn't have. After all, it wasn't like he'd had much opportunity to practice picking locks in the South Pole.

They'd taken his hairband as well, apparently concerned that he could do some sort of damage with it. So he was stuck with his hair loose around his face, still wearing that awful makeup and the damned Kyoshi warrior dress. He was glad that it was so heavy, since they weren't giving him blankets. He sat across the room from the single window, just a narrow rectangle across the top of the room that let him see the sky.

There wasn't a light in the room either. In fact, it looked more like a small storage closet than anything, except that there was a cramped washroom in the back. No running water to the sink though. Soldiers dropped off meals, and Sokka ate. He glad that they hadn't forgotten him as much as he was scared they might. It was two days before he saw Zuko again.

He wished it would have been longer.

The lingering makeup was tacky against his skin, itchy and thick. He just didn't dare soil the uniform any further by rubbing it off onto the silk threads. He wouldn't dishonor the warrior who had shared her uniform with him. No matter how hard he worked, he couldn't get the last of the makeup off with just his fingers. He was in the middle of rubbing at his eyebrows when the door flew open.

For two days, the door had opened just enough to slide a meal tray in. So it opening fast enough that it hit the wall made him jump. He leaped to his feet, hands in tight fists at his sides. Zuko scowled at him, and Sokka lunged, planning on grabbing something, anything. He couldn't sit there staring at that little slice of the sky forever.

Zuko didn't say a word as he bent the fire from the torches and forced Sokka back. Sokka threw his arm up to protect his face, stomach clenching. Flames glinted off of the gold insignia on the uniform. Zuko's arm slammed across his chest, pinned him against the wall, and Sokka gasped. He tilted his head back and gritted his teeth.

"Where is the Avatar headed?"

* * *

"I'm not telling you."

Zuko's frown deepened, and he clenched his fist. The Water Tribe boy didn't even blink; he just scowled back at Zuko through that smeared makeup. He looked awful, but that was to be expected after sitting in the small room for so long. It might have been a sight better than any prison that Zuko had seen, but it was still far from ideal quarters.

"You will tell me," Zuko promised, and he applied a little more pressure to the boy's throat. He could feel fingers digging into his arm, trying to peel him away, but he wasn't moving, wasn't giving in to some Water Tribe boy wearing a girl's dress. He let up just enough to allow him to breathe, and then the pressure was back on.

At least, it was until someone jerked him away, and he scowled at his uncle, who knelt to check on the boy as he crumpled to the floor

"You have to forgive Prince Zuko," Iroh said quietly, as he rubbed the boy's shoulders. "He has a temper."

"He is a prisoner, Uncle, not a guest. He will be treated as one." Zuko's frown deepened as the boy's eyes flashed at him.

"I won't—" He coughed, and Iroh rubbed his back before he moved to stand. "I won't tell you anything. You should just go ahead and kill me." He was defiant, sticking his chin out and locking his jaw. Something about it just made Zuko angrier, made him want to push the boy back, to make him submit.

"Would you like some water? Or tea?"

Both Water Tribe and Fire Nation turned to stare at the old man, and Iroh held up his hands with a sigh. "Just because you are our prisoner doesn't mean we must treat you as an animal. We are all honorable men here. Prince Zuko," Iroh got to his feet as though it pained him, "we should send him something to drink before we ask him to speak to us."

The boy was so shocked at this that he didn't even try to attack them again as they left, Iroh pulling Zuko along behind him.

"What was that, Uncle? I have to question him—"

"You will get nothing out of him like this." Iroh's voice was calm, certain, and it made Zuko falter. His uncle was a brilliant tactician. If nothing else, Zuko could assure himself of that. There were glimpses of that brilliance from time to time. Zuko just had to remind himself that it wasn't until after he saw them that he often realized how clever his uncle was.

"What do you suggest we do then?"

"Be a little more... flexible in your dealing with him. Treat him as a person." Iroh waved down one of the crew and requested that they take a pitcher of water, a cup, a bowl, and a washcloth to the prisoner. Only, he called the boy their 'guest'. Zuko sighed.

"How does treating him as a person get me what I need?" He didn't like this deception, this attacking problems from the side. He wanted to run in, to charge and attack. He wanted to see what he was fighting and know the tactics that worked on it.

Iroh offered him a strange smile, one that bordered between his usual goofy grins and something harder; almost cruel. It was something that seemed much more at home on the Dragon of the West's face than the uncle that Zuko knew. "Make him be the unreasonable one. Bend him to you instead of trying to break him."

Zuko stopped walking mid-stride and cast a look at his uncle. He turned the words over and over in his head, his frown deepening as he considered that. The boy was certain he was right, was certain that this was a fight— and he was right about that; it was a fight, one that Zuko did not plan on losing, and his eyes widened as he glanced at his uncle again. He nodded after a moment. "Flexible," he said, and when Iroh nodded at him, he straightened his back, drew a steadying breath, and stalked down the hall. He could be flexible; he just needed a few things first.

He took his time collecting clothes. It wasn't hard because there were plenty of spare uniforms on the ship, and he found one that looked like it might fit almost right away. The rest of the clothes he pulled from a trunk that Iroh had been working on ever since they'd left the Fire Nation. He'd packed clothes into it at nearly every port. Zuko wasn't even sure why his uncle bothered, but it didn't stop him from doing it, no matter how often Zuko pointed out that it was a futile effort, that there would be no one to wear any of those clothes until after Zuko had restored his honor, had returned home. At least now the clothes would be put to use now, would be used to leverage the boy into wearing what Zuko wanted him to, into giving him that victory if nothing else right away.

Bending him would be easier after Zuko had scored one victory.

He didn't bother sorting the clothes from the trunk, just grabbed them and hauled them up in his arms before he headed back to the room the boy was being held in. He shoved the clothes into the arms of the first soldier he walked by, then he pushed the door open and motioned for the soldier to drop the armload of clothes in the middle of the floor. The boy jumped, blinking up at him, lowering the rag from his face slowly, and Zuko tilted his head slightly toward the door. The soldier needed no other encouragement before he left the room. Zuko gave him a low order, an order to stay there that the boy couldn't hear, and shut the door behind him before he studied his prisoner.

The boy had cleaned up well enough, and without all the makeup, Zuko realized that there wasn't necessarily a whole lot that could be considered feminine about that face. His dark hair was short— too short by Zuko's standards— and it brushed just past high cheekbones in the front, but it was even shorter in the back. It was some sort of Water Tribe thing, because this boy wasn't the first Zuko had seen wearing it. His jaw was too wide for a girl's, and his mouth was a little wide to sit comfortably on his face.

Zuko's gaze narrowed as he studied him, then he tilted his head, cleared his throat, and he pointed to the pile of clothes. "If you change, you can come out. There is a guard outside, and he will show you to more... accommodating quarters." He started to leave, and he stopped, hand on the door. "What is your name?" He glanced back after a moment, when the boy didn't answer him, and his frown deepened. His uncle wouldn't have approved of that though, and he drew a breath before he worked on finding a smile to give him instead. "It's only fair," he added. "You know mine."

"Everyone knows who you are," the boy replied sullenly, and Zuko had to work to keep his smile in place. As it was, from the expression on the boy's face, Zuko was pretty certain that he had only managed to make it more pained. Finally, there was a muttered, "Sokka."

Zuko didn't respond before he stalked out of the room, leaving Sokka to make his decision. He nodded to the guard posted at the door before he clarified his order for the man to stay where he was. If Sokka cooperated, he would be moved into one of the guest rooms across from Zuko's. At the least, Zuko would be able to hear him if he tried anything too foolish.


	2. Decisions and Determination

Sokka sat in the room for a long time, doing his best to stay angry and defiant, doing his best to absolutely refuse to look at the pile of clothes. He crept over to the door and listened. He couldn't tell if there was a guard out there or if the Prince was simply plotting some sort of awful humiliation. The two weren't mutually exclusive, but Sokka didn't let himself think about that. There was only silence through the thick metal, until he finally heard the faintest coughing noise. He frowned.

He took back his space across from the window, and he hesitated before he poured some more of the water into the large wooden bowl. He practically shoved his whole head in the bowl after a moment, as much of it as would fit, at the least. He blew a few bubbles, then tossed his head back up, making his hair smack against the back of his head to keep it out of his face. He stayed like that for another minute, feeling the water trickling down the back of his uniform. Then he reached for the rag and began to remove the last of the makeup.

Without it itching on his skin, he felt like he could think again. His eyes cut over to the pile of clothes. There were numerous colors there, and he cringed as he realized he was considering changing. The uniform he wore was soiled, stained and still felt stiff from the water the Unagi sprayed over the village. He rubbed a hand over his arm, and he looked back out the window. He tried not to think of Katara and Aang, of Suki filling his spot on Appa's back. He closed his eyes.

But sleep wouldn't come, no matter how much he desperately wished for it. He couldn't stop the images from rolling around in his head. He could see the three of them, camping out with Appa curled up nearby. He could see Katara teaching Suki the Water Tribe ways of fishing. Suki probably had lessons of her own for Katara and Aang, and Sokka felt a tightness in his chest as he realized that within a few days, it would be as though he had never traveled with them at all.

Well, aside from his clothes, folded up on Appa's saddle, his boomerang lying on top of them. How long it would take Katara to sort through his things? She'd find the remnants of the warpaint he'd brought, salvaged from their father's belongings. He shuddered, and unable to deal with it a moment more, he eased over to the pile of clothes.

He wrinkled his nose at the Fire Nation uniform sitting on top, and he tossed it aside. No matter what the other clothes were, they had to be better than that blood red and charcoal gray. He picked up the next item in the pile, and he paled before he dug through the rest of them, hoping that it wasn't true.

By the time he reached the bottom, he was scowling. He'd thrown several of the clothes across the room, not even caring that it was childish. Everything that Zuko had brought him was a damned dress or a skirt— girl clothes. Well, everything was except for the Fire Nation uniform.

He fell back to his spot, and he lifted his eyes to the sky. He couldn't walk around in a dress forever, couldn't let Zuko belittle him that way. Suki and Katara both would have hit him for thinking that, especially with him wearing the green uniform. He'd even worn that makeup because it was part of the uniform. He swallowed. The makeup hadn't been all that different from his warpaint.

He dozed for a while. It was no more than just a few hours from the look of the moon as it crossed his narrow slice of the sky, but when he woke, he ached. He groaned as he stretched, tried to relieve the pain in his side. He reached for the pitcher and didn't even bother with the clay cup provided. He drank straight from the pitcher, and he rolled onto his back to look up at the metal ceiling.

If he wore the dresses— he gritted his teeth at the thought— he could move around the ship. Or at least, he could get a more comfortable cabin. He wasn't selling anyone out by it, wasn't hurting anything but his own pride. There was nothing his father had ever told him that forbade what he was considering, but bartering for a better cell felt wrong somehow.

It was dawn before he finally dragged himself back over to what he'd left of the pile, and he began to sort through them. There were two piles: maybes and definitely-nots. Anything red, black, or gray— Fire Nation colors— went into the 'definitely not' pile. Once he was through, he realized that he had a limited selection left.

He lingered between the clothes, and finally, he picked up a white dress. He held it to his nose, breathing in the smell of it, the scents of spices that he didn't know and the only vaguely familiar smell of tea. White. The color of mourning, of death. His fingers trailed down the sleeve, and he remembered, just for a minute, the day after the men left the village.

Every woman left behind had dressed in white for a week afterward, and they had been pale, drawn. They had been tense because they knew what no one wanted to say out loud. They didn't expect to ever see any of them again. He peeled off the green uniform.

_The silk represents bravery._

He pulled the soft white dress on. Brushed his fingers over the material. It felt almost as soft as the Kyoshi uniform.

_Gold for honor._

He hesitated only a moment before he pulled the small gold medallions off of the gloves of the Kyoshi uniform. He slipped them into a pocket just on the inside of the white dress, and he tugged the belt from the uniform around his waist. Knotted it.

Bravery and honor, he reminded himself. It was as much a warrior's uniform as the green dress had been. He was still a warrior, was still a man. He shook his hair out and then swept it back into a ponytail for a heartbeat. The warrior's wolf tail. He breathed. His eyes closed as he reminded himself that no Fire Nation prince could take that from him.

Then he let it go and knocked on the door.

* * *

Zuko was in the middle of breakfast when he finally heard the soldier guiding the Water Tribe boy— Sokka— to his new quarters. It hadn't taken as long for Sokka to give in as he thought it would. For a minute, Zuko let himself picture Sokka in that uniform. Even as much as it annoyed him to picture someone like him wearing it, there was a sharp taste of victory at the first breath of Sokka yielding. There would be a lot more of that yielding to come, but none of it would be nearly as sweet as this first hint of it. He lingered at the table, drinking deep of the moment, then he drew a breath and pushed himself up to go and open the door.

He stopped the moment he spotted Sokka, standing across the hallway. His breath caught in his throat. He hadn't been expecting for his prisoner to be standing there in a white dress. Zuko didn't even remember a white dress in the pile he'd collected from the trunk, but there he was, looking down, his face red. Embarrassment?

Zuko wondered for just a moment what had possessed Sokka to choose a white gown— the color of weddings, of brides— in this act of not-quite surrender. Why did that combination of white over such dark skin dusted with a faint red color do things to him?

"Sokka." Zuko signaled to the guard that he could leave. "Come and have something to eat." He gritted his teeth at the forced niceties, at the front he was being forced to put up. He didn't like sharing a meal with a boy in a white dress, but it wasn't as though he had many other choices. He needed to know where the Avatar was, needed to make Sokka tell him. This was going to be a slow process anyway, and he didn't have time to waste lingering on any feelings that sight brought up in him.

He had to keep Sokka off of his game, had to bend him into a role of Zuko's choosing on this ship. Zuko drew a breath as Sokka shook his head. "Sokka," he said, and something in his tone must have warned how irritated he was, because Sokka finally bowed his head and slid past Zuko in the doorway. He was careful not to touch Zuko, and somehow, that was even more irritating.

Sokka sat the table as though he weren't used to the skirt, and Zuko took back his own spot. He picked up a second plate and began piling food onto it. Nothing fancy, but there was some fruit and cold meat. It was more than they had been giving Sokka; that was certain.

There was a long moment were they stared at each other, and then Zuko stuck the plate out and muttered, "Eat." Sokka's fingers stayed well away from his as he took the plate, and Sokka ate slowly. Tried to eat slowly. As soon as the first bite had passed his lips though, he lost his reservation, and he dug in with a surprising enthusiasm, clearing every bite of cold meat on the plate before he even looked at the fruit.

Zuko wondered if they'd been starving Sokka and not telling him. He wondered if that mattered.

They ate in relative silence, and once they were done, Zuko poured Sokka a final cup of water, and took him back across the hallway to his new room. Sokka was docile, and when Zuko had locked the door from the outside, he stormed down the hallway toward his uncle's room.

He couldn't do this.

The plan had sounded so simple when Iroh had explained it, had seemed elegant as Zuko had turned it over in his head. But now, faced with the reality, Zuko didn't think he could do it. The deception was much harder than outright force. He stopped mid-stride as he realized that this was what Iroh had been expecting. This refusal was what his uncle had planned.

He'd never approved of Zuko's rash decision to take Sokka. He had insisted that they drop the boy off somewhere. Next port they stopped at perhaps, but Zuko had been on the trail of the Avatar, unwilling to let it slip even the slightest bit. Sokka had been the last thing on his mind. And then the Avatar was gone, and Zuko was left staring at an empty sky, the only link he had left sitting in a room in his ship. He had not been about to let that link escape him too.

He tightened his hand into a fist, slammed it into the wall, and finally returned to his cabin. He could do it. He could bend some Water Tribe boy to his will. He had to.


	3. Fear

Sokka woke to the sound of a knock on his door, and he pushed himself up to his feet, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. "What?" he muttered, and it surprised him to get an answer. He hadn't thought that he'd spoken loudly enough to be heard through the door.

"Get dressed. You can come on deck for a while."

It had to be Zuko, Sokka decided after a minute. He looked around, found the white dress that he'd peeled off the instant the door had locked, and pulled it back on. He swallowed, combed his hand through his hair, and drew a deep breath. Then he answered with, "I'm dressed."

The door opened and the bright, midday light glinting off that metal floor of the ship blinded Sokka for a minute. He held up a hand, but Zuko grabbed it and tugged him along behind him toward the brilliance. It was even brighter on deck, given the glinting water, and Sokka felt the beginnings of a headache developing. Then he was guided into the relative darkness of the cabin at the top of the ship. There was a wheel in the cabin, and Sokka realized that he could see the entire deck from there.

A game board was set up, and the old man was sitting there, inspecting the pieces with a serious expression on his face. Zuko nudged Sokka toward him, hissing, "This is General Iroh. Show him respect." Sokka wondered what would happen if he didn't, but the minute that the old man looked up at him and beamed, he realized that it would be cruel to involve him in the middle of the hatred he held for the Prince.

"General," he said as he lowered himself onto the cushion on the opposite side of the board. He studied the pieces for a moment, wondering what sort of game it was. He was pretty sure he'd seen it before, perhaps before the men had left the village.

"Please, call me Iroh. Would you like some Jasmine tea?" He looked so hopeful that Sokka couldn't tell him 'no.' It felt like he might have crushed the old man's hopes and dreams. He smiled, and within a heartbeat, a cup of tea was in his hands, steam curling from the surface. He blew on it.

"What are you playing?" he asked, and he looked up at the sound of Zuko leaving. He must have passed some sort of test by not being outright rude. Sokka wondered how many more tests there would be before he could roam the ship. Maybe sabotage it somehow.

"Pai Sho," the old man responded. "Have you heard of it?"

Sokka shook his head and then sipped his tea. "Is it hard?" It looked hard with all the different pieces.

The old man shook his head though, and instead, he held out a piece to Sokka. There was some sort of white blossom on the middle of the tile. "Easy to learn, difficult to master," he said, and a shiver ran down Sokka's back. "Would you like to learn?"

Sokka hesitated, sipped his tea, and then he nodded. It would keep his mind off of the fact that he was wearing a dress (uniform, he corrected himself; just as much a warrior's uniform as his own clothes would have been), at least. He lost track of time as he studied the board, as Iroh explained the pieces and the rules. By the time he could actually play a game through, it was growing dark. He looked up from the board only when a hand reached around him to move one of his pieces. It was a move he hadn't seen.

He glanced behind him to see Zuko, eyes narrowed on the board. Iroh was smiling as he moved one of his pieces, and Sokka started to respond with a move on his own. The game progressed with Zuko leaning forward whenever Sokka took too long, and the cleverness behind the moves surprised him.

No matter what they did though, Iroh was ahead of them, anticipating them. In the end, Sokka and Zuko both bowed their heads, accepting their defeat. Iroh laughed at them, and then leaned forward. "We will have to play again," he said, and for all his light tone, it sounded like a decree more than a suggestion.

Zuko nodded once, then touched a hand to Sokka's shoulder. "Dinner is waiting," he said, and Sokka moved to stand. His foot caught the edge of the skirt though and he went sailing right into the board. Had Zuko's hand not caught his elbow, the pieces would have gone everywhere. Sokka felt a flush on his face, but Zuko didn't say anything about it as he kept hold of Sokka's elbow, guiding them both back to his room.

They reached an uneasy truce then, with Zuko spending the days doing whatever it was he did— Sokka heard the shouting and the fighting of Zuko training, felt him hovering in the room when he was pouring over the maps, but Sokka did his best to ignore him— and Sokka playing Pai Sho with Iroh in the cabin. The other dresses were stored in a large trunk in Sokka's room, and he was just a little disappointed to realize that there wasn't a set of pants among them, with the single exception of the Fire Nation uniform that was wedged down in the bottom of the trunk. Sokka refused to even consider wearing it.

If he didn't let himself think about it too much, he could forget that he spent his days dressed as a girl, although there was always the jarring reality that every crew member on the ship treated him as a girl, opening doors and politely nodding when he walked by with Iroh. It was a little frustrating, but at least he wasn't in that damnable prison cell, had some sense of freedom, no matter how limited it was.

Zuko didn't outright ask him about the Avatar, but Sokka only saw Zuko when they ate breakfast and dinner together. They had developed a tolerable method of dealing with each other. They refused to look at one another and simply held out a hand with a single word request when they did need something.

Iroh, on the other hand, was wonderful, and Sokka found himself wishing that Iroh had been anything but Fire Nation. Then maybe his growing affection for the old man wouldn't have felt like such a betrayal. He forced himself to breathe as he considered it, and he walked across his room with a sigh. He leaned out the window just a bit, his hair blowing across his face, and he waved in return to the guard who had noticed him.

There was a blast of heat, and Sokka jerked back instinctively at the flare of light that accompanied it. He heard his door open to the room, but he didn't look up, instead choosing to lean further out the window, craning his neck so that he could see the duel sprawling out across the deck. Zuko and Lieutenant Jee, he realized, and his eyes widened as he watched them.

Both of them had stripped down to their pants and boots, and they were stepping so firm and steady in that distinctive style that the Fire Nation used to bend. He couldn't tell right away who was winning, because they were evenly matched, but his eyes kept going back to Zuko, watching the way he moved.

"You don't have to worry. Prince Zuko will win," a low voice announced, and Sokka jerked back in the window to look at Iroh. A smile was on the old man's face— pride. Sokka recognized it as the same look the old man had worn when Sokka had finally managed to score a few points in a Pai Sho game.

"I wasn't—" He stopped and then sighed as he shook his head. "I haven't ever seen firebenders fight one another," he finally said.

Iroh nodded. "Evenly matched fights are the most enjoyable to watch, but Prince Zuko's anger fuels him today. See how much more area his flames cover?" He jerked his chin toward the fight, and Sokka nodded. Zuko's blasts of fire were close to double the area that Jee's covered, and he wore that singular look of concentration that he got when he was looking over maps, planning his tracking of the Avatar. Of Aang.

"Is he in a bad mood again?" Sokka leaned back against the window, and when Iroh nodded, he sighed. Dinner would be an awful thing then. Zuko would corner him; he'd force Sokka to answer some sort of question. He wasn't looking forward to it.

"Would you like to see the match closer?" Iroh reached up and stroked a hand over his beard. "They will probably go several rounds before Prince Zuko's anger is burnt out."

Sokka hesitated. Everything in him said that no, he didn't want to be closer to an angry firebender, but at the same time, perhaps if he watched enough, he could see some sort of pattern to it, something that he could exploit later. That would be useful. He nodded, ignoring the sudden tightness in his throat, and Iroh opened the door for him.

They stopped just short of the fight, and as a sudden blast shot their way, Iroh bent it toward the sky, shielding both of them. Sokka felt his mouth go dry at the heat of the flames, and he took one step back, then another. He could smell the metal from the ship, the tang of the salt air— some part of him was convinced that he could smell the flames themselves.

Iroh called out pointers to Zuko, telling him something about the basics, about breaking the root. Sokka leaned against the wall, his breath coming in too shallow to help steady him, but the air was so hot around him... There was another blast, and he... this wasn't like in a fight, when he'd have a boomerang or a fan or something to fight with. There was no adrenaline here, no rush of the fight, no anything but just gasping, the air too damn hot around him. He couldn't stop himself.

He ran.

His cowardice shamed him. There was the sharp twang of bile in the back of his throat, and when he managed to get to his room door, he tugged on it. It was locked. He sighed, dropping his head against the door as he remembered the lock that had been installed shortly after he'd accepted the room. It locked each time the door closed, made it easier for them to put him away and forget that he was a prisoner.

He heard a few more points called out from Iroh, heard another slam of a foot or a fist into the deck of the ship, shuddered, and tried Zuko's door next. He needed to be somewhere that he couldn't hear the fight; he didn't want to hear the screaming that would come from a misplaced blast. Firebending wasn't innocuous like Katara's waterbending, wasn't simply annoying like Aang's airbending. It was dangerous, and without the adrenaline of a fight bolstering his nerves, Sokka found that he couldn't handle the thought of watching someone burn, didn't want to handle the memories that those flames sparked.

Zuko's door swung open, and Sokka shut it behind him before he moved to sit on the edge of Zuko's bed, which was nothing more than a low pallet on the ground, same as the one in Sokka's room. In fact, and he was forcing himself to focus on the room around him in an effort not to picture Zuko's scar, Zuko's room was an exact mirror to Sokka's. There were dao mounted on the wall, and while Sokka might have reached for them, he was shaking so badly that he was scared he might hurt himself. He couldn't have fought effectively with one of them.

There was a thundering down the hall, shouting and feet slamming against the metal floor, and Sokka swallowed, wondering which man had been hurt, who would be sporting the next scar. It felt like an eternity before the door finally opened, casting light across the room, and Zuko made a low noise as he walked in.

"I thought you'd run," he said. Then he leaned into the hallway and shouted, "I have him. Stand down!" The door shut, and Zuko folded his arms across his chest as he looked at Sokka.

Sokka swallowed, glanced up, and was relieved to see that there weren't any fresh burns on Zuko. The thought of burned flesh made his stomach churn again. "Where would I go?" he finally managed, and Zuko shrugged.

"What are you doing?" He crossed the room and sat down beside Sokka on the bed in the relative darkness, his frown deeper now than it had been on deck during the sparring match.

Sokka stood. "If you can unlock my door," he said, bracing himself, doing his best not to let his voice quiver, "I'll go back in there."

But Zuko's hand caught Sokka's wrist, and his eyes widened a fraction, Sokka could see the gleam of them in the dim light, as he held it. "You're shaking." He sounded amazed, as though the thought of something having frightened Sokka was strange, foreign to him. "What happened?" His voice grew darker, firmer, and Sokka jerked his hand back, rubbing his free hand over the wrist Zuko had touched.

"Nothing," Sokka said, frowning as he rubbed his wrist. Zuko's touch felt warm, but Sokka was almost certain that he was imagining it. Firebending didn't leave the bender's hands any warmer than they normally were. The burning sensation in his wrist was in his head.

Zuko scowled at him before he lit the candles beneath the dragon's head mask on his wall. Sokka couldn't stop his flinch from the sight of the fire, and Zuko's eyes widened a moment as it must have dawned on him. He hesitated, then shook his head. "I'm not going to—"

"Hurt me?" Sokka snorted as he looked at the candles, and he took another step back from Zuko. "That's all Fire Nation does is hurt people." He shivered at the look Zuko gave him, but he stood firm, knowing full well that he was right in his opinion, knowing that even if Zuko threw him back in the prison cell, he had been in the right. He had to stand up for himself, didn't he? What sort of man—

But then he wasn't a man was he? He'd never gone ice dodging, never been initiated by the older men of his village. And now he was standing in front of the Prince of the Fire Nation, and he was wearing a pale blue dress that swept the floor. He felt a heat rising in his face, and he looked away.

The silence was palpable in the room, and so help him, when Zuko finally leaned forward, finally reached out and touched his wrist again, he shivered under the feather light grip. Zuko pulled him closer, pushed him to sit back on the bed. Then he asked, "Doesn't the girl bend?"

"Water," Sokka answered, and then he clapped a hand over his mouth, realizing that without meaning to, he'd told Sokka something about his group, something that he didn't need to. Zuko smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I already knew that," he said. "I meant it... aren't you used to benders?"

Sokka drew his knees closer to himself, aware that it was an exceptionally girly thing to do, especially in that dress, but wrapping his arms around his legs gave him some sense of comfort. Some sense of being held. "Not... really," he finally said. Sure Katara could bend, but she was the last, the only one, and it wasn't like she could bend well.

And she couldn't bend without drenching Sokka in the process. He wondered if Suki had taken his place in getting soaked each time Katara decided to bend something.

Zuko nodded, and then he said, "You fight well. Given your fear of fire."

"I'm not afraid of fire!" Sokka scowled as he unfolded, glaring at Zuko. "But I can't see you bending without—" He stopped. He had done his best not to remember the day the Fire Nation invaded, not beyond the loosest outline of their troop movements so that he could teach the children of the tribe what to expect. He folded back up, resting his chin on the tops of his knees. He didn't say anything else.

Zuko frowned, and finally, he pulled a key from a pocket inside of his shirt. He held open the door when Sokka slipped past him, and he let Sokka hide in his room for the rest of the evening. They stopped somewhere, and Sokka avoided the window, knowing that it would do him no good to see the port, too long to walk in it, where he might be able to actually get away.

They must have gotten a report on the Avatar though, because they reloaded the ship as quickly as possible and were leaving the port within what had to be record time. Sokka noted that from the crew's practiced reaction, this had become the norm. They sailed almost the entire day, and just as the sun was setting, they slowed to a stop.

Zuko and Iroh both left the ship, and Sokka considered an attempt to escape in that moment. He glanced out his window, wondering if he could manage that climb down, and he finally decided that the risk wasn't worth it. Not given that the place they'd stopped at looked like some sort of prison way out there in the middle of the ocean.

Sokka changed into the nightgown left in his closet, laid down, and rolled over to one side. He pretended to be asleep when he heard Zuko stomping back to his room across the hall. There was a pause, and Sokka clenched his eyes more tightly shut, but Zuko didn't come in. Didn't knock, didn't do anything. Sokka could just hear the door across the hall open and shut, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

He didn't think he could have dealt with much more excitement that evening.


	4. Patience

Zuko didn't know why it had bothered him so much to see Sokka flinch from the firebending. Maybe it was because Zuko had a certain amount of pride in each movement he could do, each little dart of flames from his body made him swell with pride. He had fought, clawed, and scraped for his abilities, and he had a right to enjoy them, to use them.

But after seeing Sokka curled up on his bed, asking to go back in that locked room, Zuko had felt a different sensation infusing him each time he bent fire. He sighed, scowled at the memory, and then pushed his breakfast around on the plate a little more. Sokka hadn't eaten with him since that disastrous evening, and Zuko was even more annoyed to realize that he missed it.

It was impossible to tell how long it had been since Zuko had taken Sokka from Kyoshi Island since Zuko didn’t see a point in trying to keep up with how long he’d been away from his home, how long he’d been chasing the Avatar, but somehow, Sokka in his brightly colored dresses walking along beside Uncle Iroh had become such a staple that several of the crew were even asking if Sokka were well. Zuko drummed his fingers along the edge of his table.

He shoved himself back after a few minutes, refusing to tolerate it any further, and he walked across the hall. They were scheduled to stop soon. He would let Sokka walk around on the beach; perhaps that would cheer him some. At the least, it would help Zuko find some peace of mind. He rapped on the door, and when he heard Sokka's faint noise of inquiry, he called, "Sokka, we're stopping soon. Do you want to walk around?"

There was a moment of silence, and then Zuko could hear Sokka moving. If he focused, he could just hear the whisper of fabrics as Sokka dressed. He closed his eyes, wondering why that image would stick in his head, why when he closed his eyes, the thought of Sokka, of those bright fabrics sliding off of that darker skin was so foolishly appealing. He unlocked the door just as Sokka reached it, and when Sokka stepped out, Zuko wondered why on earth he'd thought it would be a good idea to start dressing Sokka in girls’ clothes to begin with. The plan was backfiring, and Zuko didn't much care for it.

There was no changing it now though, and instead, he shut the door and walked Sokka over to his room where the remains of breakfast waited. "You'll have to eat something," he said, and he held out a plate to Sokka.

Sokka piled food onto the plate, and Zuko was relieved to see Sokka eat so well. Perhaps Sokka was beginning to feel better then. He finished off his own breakfast, and only then did he lead Sokka on up to the deck. Several of the guards smiled when they saw Sokka, and Sokka offered them each little waves, as though he were completely oblivious to just how much they enjoyed having him there.

Probably because he wasn't their spoiled Prince, Zuko reflected, well aware of what they thought of him. He didn't have time to care though, because now that the Avatar was out in the open, there was actually a chance that Zuko could catch him, that Zuko could restore his place in the kingdom. Zuko closed his eyes with a sigh, opening them only at the sound of his uncle's voice.

"Would you two like some tea?"

Zuko waved a hand, turning the cup down, but Sokka took one. He didn't understand exactly what the appeal was of the hot leaf juice, but it made Sokka smile as he spoke with Iroh, exchanging pleasantries, so Zuko didn't say anything about it. Instead, he turned to the charts out on the table, reaching out with a look to the helmsman.

"We're stopping here," he confirmed, and his eyes lifted to meet Sokka's across the table. Sokka glanced over the map, then looked back to Iroh. Zuko's eyes narrowed. "Can you read a map?" He watched Sokka consider the question before he nodded, shrugging as though it weren’t important, and Zuko wondered if that meant the Avatar had lost his navigator.

That would explain the erratic route that had been taken, that Zuko could piece together given the reported sightings of the Avatar. He looked back at the map, listening as Iroh commented that he had missed playing Pai Sho with Sokka the past few days.

And Sokka, the little prick, had the nerve to reply with a comforting pat on Iroh's arm and a low, "I wasn't feeling up to playing anyway."

Zuko gritted his teeth as he cast a dark look at Sokka. No matter how innocent he played with Iroh and the crew, Zuko knew that Sokka had been avoiding them— all of them— because they were Fire Nation. Because he needed to prove to himself that— Zuko stopped himself there, and his frown deepened. Sokka had been proving that he had some sort of control over his situation, that he didn't have to interact with them if he didn't want to, and Zuko had gone along with it without even realizing. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

He bit his tongue until they landed, until they had gone ashore in the smaller boat. The crew would cycle the time on shore, letting everyone who wanted to walk around on land do so, but Iroh and Zuko and Sokka would spend the entire time there. Iroh took Sokka by the arm and led him away almost immediately, and Zuko ignored the surprising shot of pain through him that it caused. Normally, Iroh took him by the arm that way, so excited to show him some sort of foolish nonsense.

Not that it mattered. That would only have led to more time wasted. He located the fisherman he wanted to speak to, and when he confirmed that the man had indeed seen that cursed flying bison only a few days prior, Zuko stormed back to the ship. He wanted to leave right away, wanted to pack everything back up and take off in the direction the fisherman had pointed, but he realized with a vague sense of unease that if the man had spotted them a few days ago, it was unlikely that they had lingered.

He reached up and rubbed his forehead. None of the crew spoke to him, although they all exchanged uneasy glances, clearly concerned that he was going to immediately call for them to cast off. He lowered himself to sit on a log nearby, the motion nearly painful as he struggled to keep himself calm. A great leader was patient; that was what Iroh kept saying. Zuko could be patient. At the least, he could exercise his patience; maybe reassure himself that he wasn't as much of a failure to his uncle as he was to his father.

He closed his eyes, turning his face toward the sun, and he breathed. _The fire comes from the breath, Prince Zuko._ That was what Iroh kept insisting, kept trying to tell him. Zuko focused on that sensation, his lungs filling and emptying, trying to figure out exactly what Iroh was getting at. Firebending was easier when he was angry, and while he wasn't the prodigy his sister was, Zuko was far from incompetent. He'd compensated for his lack of natural talent by pouring more time than most into his training.

On the ship, it wasn't like he had much else to do. Track the Avatar and bend; train and watch the skies. He exhaled and opened his eyes— he didn't remember closing them— to look at the sky. For a moment, there was the slightest hint of peace stealing over him, because with solid ground under him, warm sunlight on his face, what else could he feel?

Then one of the crew dropped something, let it crash to the ground, and Zuko stood, frowning at them all. He didn't have time for this, didn't have time to waste looking at the sky and attempting to decipher his uncle's ramblings. He had to reload the ship, had to find that damned Avatar so that he could go home and meditate in the quiet of the gardens. Not on some forsaken Earth Kingdom shore.

He stormed through the forest near the shore, his scowl deepening as he pushed through the greenery. His uncle had taken Sokka off this way, laughing and explaining something about the lay of the land. He followed their path easily enough. Sokka's long skirts had swept the ground and caught on plants as he walked past them, making it obvious where they’d gone.

"Uncle!" Zuko jerked his leg away from some sort of prickly vine that seemed determined to slow him down. "Where—" He fell quiet as he entered a small clearing, where Sokka was laughing. The laughter was so carefree, so open that it made Zuko stop in his tracks.

Sokka, even in a dress, didn't act like a girl. There was nothing like a coy glance or giggling behind his hand. He laughed, head thrown back; he just never laughed around Zuko. Looking ahead, Zuko spotted him sinking down in some sort of natural crater beside a similar one that Iroh was lounging in. The water in the crater was steaming, and Iroh waved when he spotted Zuko. Iroh's clothes hung over near the branches that Zuko pushed past into the clearing, but Sokka's were right there, dress— today's was a pale yellow with scattered white blossoms on the fabric, it didn't suit Sokka's coloring, but Zuko was half sure that Sokka didn't care— just out of reach so that if Sokka splashed, it wouldn't get wet.

Iroh leaned back, giving Zuko a wide smile as he waved him over, but Sokka just sank a little lower in the water, until it brushed his chin, his smile fading, and Zuko was torn between asking him if he was all right and laughing at how absurd his own life had gotten. He left his prisoner with his uncle for a few minutes, and the next thing he knew, they were both soaking up hot water as though they were on some kind of pleasure cruise.

"Prince Zuko! Good of you to join us. I was telling Sokka—"

"That we're leaving, I hope," Zuko said, cutting his uncle off. "You were, weren't you?" It was easier to focus on that, to remind them all what he was actually after here. He wanted to go home, wanted to stop spending his days aboard that ship, wanted to stop chasing the Avatar. His jaw tightened.

"Really, Prince Zuko, you should get in. The water is the perfect temperature. I heated it myself."

That explained how these craters were full of hot water; hot springs didn't form this way naturally. Zuko could feel a muscle in his jaw starting to twitch.

"We don't have time for that. The Avatar's been spotted near here, and we're leaving. Now."

Sokka sighed, sinking down just a little more in his water, it was just under his nose now, and Zuko scowled at him. Iroh just stretched out some, seemingly quite comfortable in where he was.

Zuko's temper snapped. "Now, Uncle,” he repeated. “Sokka, get out."

Sokka wrinkled his nose at Zuko, but he started to rise, and Zuko's interest was momentarily captivated at how Sokka slid out only enough to reach and grab his dress at first, holding it in front of himself as he started to leave the water. Then his focus shattered when Iroh started to stand and stretch, and Zuko made a sharp noise as he held up a hand to cover his uncle's nudity.

"Right. Tell you what," he said finally, and as Iroh dropped right back down in the water, he crossed the clearing. "Take another few minutes. But half an hour, Uncle. We're leaving in half an hour, and if you're not there, we'll leave without you."

Sokka didn't actually have anything to dry off with, so he pulled the dress on right over his wet skin, and Zuko reached out and caught Sokka's elbow, keeping the Water Tribe boy within sight. He wasn't about to allow a prisoner to escape on him or his uncle. Sokka scowled at him, muttering something that Zuko didn't catch. Zuko didn't care enough to make Sokka repeat himself.

He stalked back to the boat, Sokka in tow. He was far more annoyed than he probably should have been, but all he could think of was the simple fact that the Avatar was getting away, going somewhere, and if Zhao caught him first, Zuko would never get to go home. The thought was enough to chase away even the appeal of Sokka in his dress.

At least, it was until they got back on board and Sokka jerked away from him. There was something about the frown on that face, the way he stormed back toward his room—

Zuko swallowed, his eyes narrowing. He had half an hour, he reasoned. He had promised at least that much time to Iroh. He called out some orders to the crew— be prepared to leave within the hour— and then he followed Sokka into the hallway with the rooms. He didn't let Sokka disappear into his room though, didn't let Sokka have any control over the situation; instead, he caught Sokka's arm and pulled him into the room across the hall. Sokka's eyes widened, and he looked up at Zuko with something bordering on fear. He was nervous?

Zuko took his time. He pushed Sokka on into the room, studying him, trying to figure out what exactly it was about this combination, about the fact that the boy was wearing a dress that held his attention. His hair was growing, and from the way Sokka kept reaching up to scratch at the part that had once been shaved, it probably was beginning to itch. But the best part, the part that kept Zuko staring, was the way Sokka was at once defiant and yielding, wanting to argue but too uncertain of his position to actually do so.

He was the prisoner, though. It was fitting that he stay off balance and uncertain. Then again, if he were a proper prisoner, Zuko would have gotten some sort of information out of him beyond the knowledge that the girl— the owner of the necklace hidden away in his pocket— was a bender. He smiled just slightly at that thought. He did have leverage, after all.

He pulled the necklace from his pocket, and Sokka's lips parted. "Where did you get that?" Sokka shifted from compliant to bristling, because his hands tightened into fists and he took a step toward Zuko.

"I thought it might be hers." Zuko nodded, satisfied now that he had his confirmation. He ignored the question, ignored the sudden intensity that Sokka was looking at him with. He tossed it up, caught it, and returned it to his pocket. It was that instant, the moment it vanished from sight, when Sokka lunged at him.

They both hit the ground, and Sokka was scrabbling, trying to get the necklace away from him. Zuko growled as he shoved Sokka off of him, leaping back to his feet. Sokka swung, fist tight, and Zuko caught it in his own hand. There was a rush of something in him, something that made him feel strangely alive. Sparring with the lieutenant didn't bring this out, didn't give him that same satisfying surge of power.

Sokka wasn't sparring, wasn't fighting him because he'd been instructed to. Sokka was fighting for something real, even knowing that Zuko was a bender, that Zuko was a better warrior. He twisted the hand in his grip, making certain to use enough of his own weight in the motion that it sent Sokka flying across the room where he slammed against the wall and fell to the floor, a crumpled heap of yellow and white. Zuko glanced at the necklace once more— Sokka had managed to get it out of his pocket at least— but the sound of Sokka jerking one of the dao from the wall was more than enough to jerk him back to the present.

Quickly, he shot a wave of flame at Sokka, but there wasn't the same reaction there had been immediately after the duel. Instead, Sokka braced himself and used the flat of the blade to divert as much of the fire as he could; he was filled with that same sense of desperation that had made him fight the first time, back at the South Pole, and again in Kyoshi. He assumed a fighting stance, but Zuko realized in a heartbeat that he wasn't familiar with the dao.

It wasn't a spear or a boomerang, wasn't his natural weaponry. His stance was clearly adopted from Zuko's, from having watched Zuko duel on deck. Zuko couldn't stop a slight grin. It was gratifying to know that Sokka spent time watching him, and watching him enough that he almost had the stance right. It meant Zuko's fascination hadn't simply been one-sided.

But Sokka wasn't a firebender, and he wasn't used to actually fighting them either. Zuko stomped once, twice, and spurts of flames danced along the hem of Sokka's skirt, Sokka cried out as he leaped forward, sword brandished. Zuko sent another burst of fire that did make Sokka flinch. Everyone flinched when fire kissed their faces.

Zuko used the momentum to knock the sword from Sokka's hands, to trap him against the wall. His hand wrapped around Sokka's throat, and when Sokka looked up at him, there was such a sense of despair in that face that Zuko felt himself reeling.

"Do you want it that badly?" Zuko could understand that desperation, the desire to cling to pretty much anything that reminded him of home. He only needed to look around at his own room to see proof of that. Sokka swallowed before he nodded. Zuko could feel the motion behind his hand, and it was vulnerable, sparking something in him that he wasn't familiar with.

"Zuko..." Sokka hesitated, and then he locked his jaw and looked away. He wasn't going to ask for it then, couldn't lower himself enough to ask a favor from a firebender. Zuko's eyes narrowed as he studied that expression of defiance, that unwillingness to cooperate.

"When you ask me for it nicely, I'll consider it," Zuko decided, and he had no idea where that came from. He held the necklace up enough that the white medallion caught the light and glittered. "Nicely," he repeated, and then he stepped back, pocketing the piece of jewelry.

Sokka scowled at him, and Zuko decided that he didn't care. Sokka could dislike him— no. Sokka was supposed to dislike him. Water Tribe and Fire Nation were polar opposites; Zuko was the captor and Sokka was the captive. They couldn't have been friends.


	5. Lost and Found

Sokka paced in his room— his cell, he corrected himself— with a frown, trying to figure out just what he was going to do. He didn't want to ask Zuko 'nicely' for the necklace, but the thought of leaving it in Zuko's possession grated on him in a way that little did. His head came up as he heard the commotion outside, shouting and calling for something... the komodo rhino, maybe? His gaze darted over to his door. After only a heartbeat, he headed over to it, pressed his hands against it and studied it, wishing that it didn't have that lock on it. The weight of his hands moved it a fraction though, and his eyes widened as he tested his luck—

Sure enough, the door eased open, squeaking as it did, and he stilled for a heartbeat, wondering if anyone had heard that. Then he decided to just go for it, pushing the door open and stepping out into the hall, glancing down either end of the hallway. The soldier who had put him in his room after Zuko had left must not have shut the door quite all the way. If it latched, it locked, and Zuko always tugged on it to make sure it locked before he left. Clearly, all his soldiers were not as diligent. Sokka's grin widened, and he focused on his door, then knelt and ripped a narrow piece of silk off the bottom hem of his dress. He folded it up and wedged it between the frame and the door's latch. Sure enough, he could pull it open again after he closed it.

That was useful, and maybe he could find something sticky to keep the fabric from fluttering down to the floor when the door was eventually opened. He would have to watch for something he could use.

For now, he was content pocketing the silk, shutting the door, and heading down the hall, toward the deck. He only stayed away from the engines because that was where the komodo rhinos were kept, and if Zuko was calling for one of those— Sokka could hear his voice now, ringing through the ship, demanding that the crew hurry up— he must have spotted Aang and Appa. If he had, maybe Sokka could use the chaos to cover getting off the ship...

He pressed against the wall as he neared the corner, listening to the soldiers as they jogged along, rushing to get the komodo rhino and the gear for it. They were talking, exchanging words about Iroh, about him missing and Zuko leaving to go get him back.

Sokka's stomach dropped, and he pushed off the wall, glancing down the hall at them. Iroh? Why did Zuko need the komodo rhino to go after Iroh? Had something happened?

Zuko had left to go fetch him, drag him out of the hot water and back onto the ship, and he'd taken a few soldiers with him just in case Iroh had dozed off and proved difficult to wake. But if Zuko had returned in this kind of mood with no Iroh and was demanding the komodo rhino...

Someone must have taken Iroh. Sokka's mouth went dry at the thought. He didn't hesitate as he headed on up to the deck, his thoughts of escaping fading for now under the threat of someone actually taking the old man. Iroh had been kind to him, had been more friendly than just about anyone had since Sokka had left the South Pole, and Zuko didn't think before he rushed into anything. If he was going after Iroh with the same single-minded purpose that he chased Aang with, it was possible that Zuko would end up getting Iroh killed.

No one seemed to notice him out and about without a guard, not when he was headed somewhere with such purpose— it was a good thing to know, and he could use that to his advantage later; he was Aang's spy on this ship, and thanks to his dress (warrior's uniform), people underestimated him here. He could manage to be useful; maybe even sabotage Zuko's ship if he was lucky. Then Aang would have enough time to get away from where Zuko could find him.

But that was for later. It was for after they found Iroh and Sokka figured out just what was going on.

He stormed out onto the deck— it was dark out already, but this deep into winter, that didn't surprise him— and Zuko was the first one to spot him. The prince turned on his heel, and his shout died in his throat as he spotted Sokka standing there, arms folded in front of him, eyebrow raised as he tapped one foot. Zuko's eyes narrowed, and then he stalked over to Sokka, straight-backed and scowling. He was always scowling though, so Sokka didn't let it bother him. He just smiled, sharper than he meant to.

"What's going on?"

"What are you doing out here?"

They spoke at the same time, and neither one of them was willing to yield, so for a long moment, neither of them got an answer to their question. Then one of the soldiers called, "Prince Zuko! The komodo rhino is ready! Will you need an escort to assist in retrieving the General?"

Sokka's smile faded, and he glanced between the soldier and Zuko. "Iroh? What's happened to Iroh?"

"Nothing you need to worry about. You're going back to your room—" Zuko's mouth tightened as he waved over the soldier, but as the man reached for Sokka, Sokka shrugged him off, stepping closer to Zuko and grabbing a handful of his sleeve.

"I wanna go with you. I can help."

"You're not leaving this ship," Zuko countered, and he reached down, peeled Sokka's hand off him. But he didn't let it go right away, just stood there, studying Sokka for a moment. Then he asked, brows drawn, "Why would you help me anyway?"

Sokka jerked his hand back from Zuko, and he scowled. "Maybe I don't wanna help you. Maybe I just wanna help Iroh."

Zuko's gaze sharpened, and when the soldier reached for Sokka again, Zuko was the one who intercepted, wrapping his hand around Sokka's wrist and pulling him in close, closer than they'd ever been before except for when they were fighting. Sokka's breath caught in his throat, but he didn't look away from Zuko; he didn't dare. He could stand on his own two feet, didn't need Zuko's permission for that. Besides, what would Zuko even do to him? He needed Sokka, needed what Sokka could tell him about Aang.

"You want to help me get Iroh back?" Zuko asked, his voice low and right there against Sokka's skin. Sokka's jaw tensed, and his hand flexed in Zuko's hold, tightening into a fist.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. You gonna stop me?"

For a minute, Zuko was quiet, and Sokka wondered if he'd pushed too hard, if this was when Zuko would shove him back into the soldier behind him, lock him up all over again. But the push never came, and instead, Zuko turned on his heel and just pulled Sokka along behind him, stopping at the komodo rhino's side. Sokka stared up at the thing, wondering just how he was supposed to climb up there in this dress, but before he could even make an attempt, Zuko vaulted up there, leaned down and grabbed Sokka's arm, and jerked him up behind him.

"We will be back with the general soon. Keep the ship ready to go," he ordered, and then they were off, racing down the gangplank to land, and Sokka sucked in a sharp breath as he pressed closer to Zuko's back. Zuko seemed to anticipate every rock of the komodo rhino's gait, moved with it, but Sokka wasn't sure he even felt a rhythm to move with, and he set his teeth against the jarring, tried to just press close enough to Zuko that when Zuko moved, Sokka would move with him.

Zuko shifted in front of him and Sokka realized that this had to be uncomfortable for him. Sokka just wasn't certain he even cared. It served the prince right for him to be a little uncomfortable. Sokka had been uncomfortable ever since Zuko got his hands on him.

"Who do you think took Iroh?" he asked, focusing on that instead of how close they were, how it wasn't that much better, being so close. He still jarred with every step that the komodo rhino took.

"Earthbenders," Zuko replied tersely. He did everything tersely though, and for once, Sokka was starting to miss Aang's inability to take anything seriously. He'd have given just about anything to watch him spin his stupid marbles again, trying to get Katara's attention.

"Earthbenders? Why would earthbenders—" Then Sokka stopped, swallowed, realizing for the first time just who Iroh was. The dragon of the west. The man who had laid siege to Ba Sing Se for six hundred days. Six hundred. And had managed to punch through the outer wall of the city! He might could have taken it had he not withdrawn.

Zuko didn't respond to those words, and for a long moment, they were both quiet, Sokka's fingers tightening around fistfuls of Zuko's shirt where his arms were wrapped around him to keep from falling off the komodo rhino. He had known, of course, who Iroh was, but it... hadn't sunk in, maybe, that the man he played Pai Sho with, the one who organized music night that Sokka never went to because he was eating with Zuko during it, the one who all the crew looked up to and respected... that he was the butcher of Ba Sing Se. How many earthbenders had he killed? For that matter, how many of his own Fire Nation troops had he thrown at the wall over the course of those six hundred days?

Zuko's voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet; quiet enough that Sokka thought that perhaps he was imagining it when he said, "Do you wish you'd have stayed at the ship?"

Sokka jerked, his hold tightening again, and then he scowled at the black ponytail in his face. "Of course not. He's still Iroh. He's... No one deserves the sort of justice the earthbenders will inflict, do they?"

"... I'd have thought you'd agree with it," Zuko replied, shrugging, his eyes intent on the road in the dark. Sokka wasn't sure what he was seeing, how he was seeing anything, but judging from the way he'd make a pass or two around an area then coax the komodo rhino into tearing off down the road, he was tracking something. Sokka wondered if he could explain later what he was looking for. It would be useful to track like that—

He jerked his head back from Zuko's ponytail, and he inched back away from him, his fingers loosening on Zuko's shirt. "Maybe. It's different with Iroh," he finally murmured. That was weak, even Sokka knew that, but Zuko didn't push him anymore about it. Instead, he made a slight noise and reached down, brushing his fingers against Sokka's hands for a second before he sighed and reached back, pulling Sokka in closer to him again.

"You ride terribly," he muttered, and Sokka blushed. "Look, just... stop trying to anticipate, all right? Feel it. You can't guess how the rhino's going to move, you just... breathe with him and feel him."

Sokka frowned, raising an eyebrow, wondering what kind of mystical crap that was— it sounded like some of Katara's commentary about waterbending, about just feeling it and figuring out how to do it herself. Then he focused on the feel of komodo rhino under him, and his eyes widened as he realized that no, he could feel the creature breathing against his legs. That was weird.

Pressed up close to Zuko like this, he could feel him breathing too, and he realized that Zuko was, sure enough, breathing in a similar rhythm, only a little faster than the much larger creature they were riding. Sokka wrinkled his nose, and then, obediently, he started focusing on trying to breathe like Zuko, like the komodo rhino under them.

It wasn't an instant process, not by any means, but he leaned his head in against Zuko's shoulder, turning his head so that black ponytail didn't smack him in the face, and it was easier than he'd have ever thought possible to breathe like them. Match them. He dozed off like that, his head heavy against Zuko's shoulder.

* * *

They made better time after Sokka dozed off. Not because of Sokka, exactly, but because when Sokka dozed off, he stopped trying to guess how to move, and his riding improved considerably, leaving Zuko more attention to focus on figuring out just where these earthbenders were going. Judging by the way they'd stuck to the main roads, he'd bet they were headed straight to Ba Sing Se, which didn't bode well for his uncle at all. Ba Sing Se would rip him apart given the chance, possibly literally, given how the Earth Kingdom was. He gritted his teeth a little, nudging the rhino into moving a little faster.

He had to keep one hand on Sokka's arms to keep him leaning forward against Zuko's shoulder instead of falling right off the back, and Sokka somehow managed to fidget and squirm even more when he was asleep than he did when he was awake. Because that was how Zuko's luck went, and he sighed, but at the same time... It was nearly endearing, feeling Sokka shift against him, lean a little more against him and trust Zuko to keep him upright. Not that the trust was on purpose. Sokka had no clue he'd dozed off.

Zuko didn't bother waking him up until the sun came up. By that point, Sokka's squirming was unbearable, and Zuko elbowed him, hissing a low, "Sokka. Sokka, wake up." Sokka grunted protest, rubbing his face into Zuko's shoulder, and Zuko rolled his eyes, wondering just what, exactly had even possessed him to let Sokka come along on this.

Perhaps it had been the expression on his face, all daring Zuko to tell him no, threatening with nothing but his eyes that he'd fight something fierce if they tried to put him back in his room, that he might try to follow on foot if he managed to get out of his room again before Zuko got back. The last thing he needed was Sokka wandering the ship unsupervised; even Iroh, with all his affection for him, agreed with that. And besides, Zuko wanted to get a look at his door before he put Sokka in there again, wanted to make sure that the Water Tribe boy hadn't managed to rig it somehow that he could get out.

He elbowed Sokka again, and this time, Sokka muttered something about meat, then jerked awake behind him, and Zuko blew out a breath of relief as Sokka's hands tightened on his shirt again and Zuko could use both hands to handle the rhino again.

"Mm... Have we been moving all night? What are they on that we haven't caught up to them yet?"

"Ostrich horses, probably," Zuko replied after a minute, shrugging. "They can make good time if they keep to a forced march. The rhino will catch up to them. They'll have to stop to water them soon."

His eyes narrowed on the road up ahead, on something that he could see laying out in the dirt. Was that a sandal? He slid off the rhino, giving Sokka a stern look as he kept the reins in hand and knelt down to pick up the sandal, eying it. It looked like the ones his uncle had been wearing. He sniffed it, jerked it away from his face and ignored Sokka's laugh as he muttered, "Yeah. That's Uncle Iroh all right. He must've kicked it off."

He glanced up at Sokka, who was still grinning, and he tossed the sandal at him. Sokka caught it— decent reflexes, but Zuko had already known that from fighting him— and held it out, wrinkling up his nose as he looked at it. "Why do I have to carry it?"

"You have free hands," Zuko retorted, and he pulled himself back up onto the rhino, both hands on the reins again.

Sokka made some kind of protesting noise, but he didn't actually argue, which was just as well since they both knew that it was the truth. Sokka wedged the sandal between them, holding it with one hand as he reached around Zuko to hold on with his other again. Zuko was grateful that Sokka didn't just stick the sandal in his lap.

They traveled the whole day, stopping only when necessary, Zuko pushing the rhino harder than he would have otherwise. Then he heard it, and his ears pricked, silencing Sokka's chatter about wanting something to eat, some kind of meat, with a low hiss as he sat up straighter, eyes narrowing as he tried to see as far off as he could hear. People were shouting but the heat behind it was fading, their voices lowering. The earthbenders? He turned to glance back at Sokka, only to have something catch his attention in the sky.

White and huge and floating and it was that bison—

"The Avatar," he breathed, and he felt Sokka stiffen behind him as he started to swing the rhino around. Sokka didn't say anything, but Zuko's jaw tightened as he glanced back toward the footprints down the road. One more look at the bison, and he scowled as he jerked the rhino back around to follow the trail. He'd find his uncle first. There was no telling what the earthbenders would do to him, and if that was them already arguing up ahead, then maybe his uncle was trying an escape. They might hurt him.

He kneed the rhino hard to make it tear down the road. He could hear them still arguing about what to do with their prisoner, arguing that he was too dangerous to travel with, even chained up.

Zuko could feel tension in him coiling, and he leaned back, turning his head enough that Sokka would hear him when he said, "When I go, grab the reins and hold the rhino." It was a risk, trusting Sokka not to take the rhino and just leave him and Iroh, but given his reaction to hearing that Zuko's uncle had been taken? Zuko thought it unlikely.

The sun sank down, washing the mountainside in red and gold, and the second Zuko spotted the disarrayed rocks and the slide down and the group of earthbenders all there around Uncle Iroh, he dove off the rhino. He ignored the panicked squeak from Sokka, deciding that it was too late to worry about it now. If he thought Sokka likely to try to take the rhino and leave them, he wouldn't have brought him. Besides, if he did take the rhino? He'd be in for a sore surprise given how volatile they could be.

He rushed up just as the earthbenders were preparing to crush Iroh's hands, and he threw himself into the fight, kicking away the rock and dropping his heel to break Iroh's chains so that he could help Zuko fight.

"Excellent form, Prince Zuko!" Iroh exclaimed, and Zuko couldn't stop the faint smile, the pride welling up in him for such a thing. The man had been about to have his hands crushed, about to lose his ability to bend, and he still took the moment to praise him.

"You taught me well," he replied, focusing his attention on the benders around them.

One of them, the captain, Zuko surmised from the way the others seemed to take their cues from him, scowled and said, "Surrender yourselves. It's five against two. You're clearly outnumbered."

As though numbers alone won a battle. Zuko's smile sharpened, but before he could say anything, Iroh snapped one of the chains still hanging off his manacles and replied with, "Yeah, that's true, but you're clearly outmatched."

Then the rocks started flying, and Iroh was breaking them with the chains, pebbles and shards flew around them— Zuko felt them striking his hair, his skin, but he ignored them as he dodged the rocks being thrown at him, centering himself and letting his rage flare up so that he could counter with fire blasts. Then the captain was hoisting up a huge rock, one that would have crushed both Zuko and Iroh if it landed on them, and before either of them could react, a rock flew from well outside the fight, striking the captain in the temple and dropping him.

The rock fell on top of him, on top of the other benders that Zuko and Iroh had managed to force back into a group, and as they groaned, Zuko's attention snapped back to the ridge where the road was, where Sokka stood, reins for the rhino looped around one hand and another rock in his free hand. He tossed it up and down, and for a second, Zuko wondered if he'd throw it, knock one of them out and make a run for it. Then Uncle Iroh looked up at him, smiled and waved, and the rock slipped from Sokka's fingers as he grinned and returned the wave.

Zuko's teeth gritted, his temper flaring. "Now, would you please put some clothes on?" he snapped at his uncle, and he glanced back at the pile of rocks they were going to leave those earthbenders under. His scowl deepened. He'd left Sokka holding the reins more to give him something to do, something to feel as though he'd helped in retrieving Iroh. He hadn't considered that perhaps Sokka might fight too, and he hadn't considered that he might be useful (dangerous).

"Did you bring me clothes?" Iroh asked, and Zuko hesitated, sighed, and then pointed to the rhino.

"Up. I saw the Avatar only a little while ago, and we might be able to find him if we hurry." After just a second, he added, voice low, "You may need to keep an eye on Sokka while I do this, Uncle."

Iroh inclined his head, and they both headed up to the rhino. What Zuko found most interesting was the way Sokka looked at just about everything except Iroh, and when Iroh got on the rhino and Zuko took the reins from Sokka, he flushed. Zuko's eyes narrowed as he studied the Water Tribe boy.

"We uh... We didn't think to bring him clothes, did we?" Sokka said finally, looking at Zuko miserably. Zuko couldn't quite stop themselves momentary pleasure in Sokka's expression, and then he shrugged, as though it didn't matter at all to him.

"Sit in front of Uncle Iroh or in front of me, Sokka. Which is it?"

That was how he ended up with Uncle Iroh behind him and Sokka folded up in front of him, skirt spread out over his lap and legs and even down the rhino's neck, Zuko fighting with the reins around Sokka's sides. He kneed the rhino, his temper getting the best of him as he headed off after the Avatar. All he had to do was catch the kid before anyone else did, and then he could go home and pretend his life had never gotten to this point where he had his nearly naked uncle behind him and a boy in a dress in his arms.

It took them a while to locate the village that the Avatar must have been in, and Sokka spent the whole time grumbling about wanting food and complaining that the jerky Zuko had been feeding him since they left the ship wasn't enough.

"I don't even know what kind of jerky this is. What if it isn't real food? What if it's just something you Fire Nation have managed to convince yourselves is food and that's why you're so grumpy all the time? Iroh, I don't wanna be grumpy all the time—"

"It's mouthy Water Tribe boy. I thought you'd like it," Zuko finally snapped, and Sokka twisted around to look at him over his shoulder, giving him a grin that Zuko was not prepared for.

"Maybe I would if that's what it actually was," Sokka countered. "But all this tastes like is some kind of bird. I want something good. I want real food."

"We're on the back of a komodo rhino in the middle of chasing down the Avatar. What sort of real food did you think I would pack?"

"I don't know, Prince Zuko, but I think Sokka has a point. I could go for something myself. Perhaps a nice fat fish—"

"Exactly! See, that's real food!"

Zuko scowled, but before he could interrupt them, he spotted the village. He tensed, and Sokka spun around, looking it over— probably hoping to see if the Avatar was still there, if he could somehow get back to his group and away from Zuko— only to sigh the same time Zuko did. Neither of them saw the bison, and while Sokka's was presumably of relief, Zuko's was because it meant another day of chasing.

He slid off the back of the rhino, handing the reins over to Iroh, who pulled Sokka a little closer to him. Anyone who looked at Zuko averted their faces, either because of his scowl and his scar or because of his uniform, and he couldn't have cared less why they did it. Instead, he stalked up to the nicest house in the village since it was probably the chief's, and just as he moved to kick the door in, it opened. He smiled, and he knew from experience that it was a particularly nasty smile.

"Having trouble sleeping?" Zuko didn't wait for an answer, and he didn't let himself look back at Sokka and his uncle on the rhino. He struck, forcing the man back into his home, where they would both be out of sight. He stalked in behind him, taking the moment to pull the door shut. "Seen the Avatar lately?"


	6. Stealth

Zuko hadn't actually spoken to Sokka since he came out of the village chief's house. He'd vaulted back up on the komodo rhino and jerked Sokka back into his lap and headed straight back to the ship. Sokka had twisted around to try to see the chief when he came out, but by the time he did, leaning against the frame of the door, Sokka couldn't see him enough to tell what Zuko had done to him.

"Put him back in his room," Zuko ordered the minute they were back on the ship, and Sokka scowled at him, looking away from the solider offering Sokka a hand up to get down off the komodo rhino's back. "The avatar is headed north," Zuko continued and Sokka ignored him as he continued to shout orders, getting the ship underway to chase Aang down. Sokka brushed of the soldier trying to help him down, and he gathered up his skirts to stalk across the deck. Iroh's hand on his arm stopped him however, and when he looked back at the old man, he felt some of fight fading.

Iroh looked concerned, and he said, "Sokka, it might be best if you were in your room for this."  
"But Aang—"

"Please."

Sokka stared at the old man who still stood there on the deck in his loincloth, seemingly completely unphased by his own lack of clothes, by the fact that nearly every move Zuko made as he shouted his orders led to fire darting across the air. Zuko reached for the telescope, and a soldier brought up clothing for Iroh as Sokka felt someone tugging him down the hallway, drawing him away from the chaos on the deck. He had barely enough presence of mind to even remember the plant leaf in his pocket, the one he'd snatched when they'd been searching for Iroh— he'd reached for just about everything that they passed, shredding leaves off the stems and letting them fall; it hadn't taken long before Zuko stopped watching him, and he'd had ample time to pocket some of the more useful ones when Zuko had dived off the komodo rhino to save Iroh. He broke the leaf, getting the sticky sap all over his fingers and the little folded up piece of silk he'd left in his pocket from his earlier escape.

Halfway down the hall, he tugged on his arm and before the soldier could argue with him, he said, "It's right there. I can put myself in there. The door will lock when it shuts. You need to get back on deck, don't you?" He headed on to his room, and the soldier hesitated, glancing back down the hall, but he didn't leave even when Sokka reached the door. He smiled, his fingers sliding down the edge of the door, trying to be as subtle as he could as he pressed the silk into place over the latch.

He'd tested it earlier, but there was still a little thrill of nerves through him— what if it didn't work, what if the sap interfered, what if, what if, what if— and he kept his voice as steady as he could when he said, "Be careful." The soldier stared at him, and Sokka shut the door behind him, having to trust that the silk would keep the latch from engaging. The man might have noticed the lack of the lock clicking into place, but there was so much noise going on as the ship rushed out after Aang, that Sokka didn't think he'd noticed.

He stayed there, waiting, counting off in his head, trying to guess how much time he needed to wait. Long enough that they'd forgotten about him. He glanced back toward his trunk of clothes, and then dropped down in front of it, trying to find something useful.

The Fire Nation uniform that Zuko had given him wasn't, strictly speaking, a uniform at all. Sokka had figured that out during his days on the ship, from studying what the soldiers and Zuko and Iroh wore. It was the sort of thing a Fire Nation civilian might wear when serving on board a ship, and it was distinctive enough that it would stand out just as much as wearing one of his dresses would. Fire Nation soldiers were used to watching for such a uniform, would haul out anyone wearing one from any places that they weren't supposed to be. He couldn't use it to avoid detection.

His gaze fell onto a black and red dress in the trunk, black and red with gold trim, and honestly, it was colored more similarly to the soldiers' uniforms than the civilian uniform that Zuko had given him. Perhaps with the skirt hiked up or tied, it might, at first glance, pass for a uniform. Sokka still hesitated as he reached for it, his fingertips shaking.

Red and black and gold, and they were Fire Nation colors, and wasn't that as much a surrender as wearing the uniform Zuko had given him?

It couldn't be, not when Sokka was putting it on so that he could go through the ship, could perhaps finally get down there with the engines or something. He was Aang's ally, a Water Tribe member whose destiny fell with the Avatar, even if he wasn't actually with them anymore. He swallowed, clenched a fist, and then changed into the red and black dress. His throat tightened as he glanced down at it, and then he pushed himself to focus, to concentrate on tearing some black fabric off of another dress to tie the skirt with, using his teeth and nails to do so for a second before he glanced up toward his door, grinned, and crept over to it. He listened for a long moment, and only when he was sure that no one was out there did he push the door open.

The silk must have stuck over the latch because the door just slid right on open, and Sokka glanced down the hall both ways before he darted over to Zuko's room. The door was unlocked— Zuko rarely, if ever, locked it— and Sokka headed straight over to those dao on the wall, pulling both of them down. He used the tip of one to cut the skirt, folded the cut edges over his legs, and tied them in place with the strips of black fabric. There was so much fabric and Sokka tied the strips so tight that he was certain he was going to have to cut them off. They fit a little strange like that, but he adjusted them until, at first glance at least, his outfit would be mistaken for one of the Fire Nation uniforms.

He could have done this sort of thing with all his dresses thus far, cheat and make them into pants or something, but it wouldn't have been worth it. Not given how the crew reacted to the skirts and bright patterns. They were far friendlier with him than they'd be otherwise, he bet. It was the same reason he let Zuko help him up, the same reason he held his tongue when someone caught a door for him or offered a hand to help him sit down; it was useful.

He lingered over the swords, trying to decide if it would be worth it to keep one, but no, there was little chance he was going to get off this ship, and he couldn't best Zuko and all his firebenders, especially not with as angry as Zuko was likely to be. Having one of his swords would only further spark his temper, might land Sokka back in the cell instead of in his room. Sokka put the dao back on the wall where they belonged, and he flexed his fingers, wishing for his boomerang all over again. He'd have taken it over any Fire Nation weaponry any day.

He headed back into the hall, trying to ignore all the shouting coming from the deck— they'd spotted the Avatar, he could hear Zuko shouting not to let him get away— and he headed the opposite way from the deck. Surely there was a way down to the engines without having to cross the deck itself.

He followed every branching hall he could find before he finally admitted to himself that no, there wasn't. The only way down there was through the stairs down in the middle of the deck, and he scowled. Everything in this section of the ship was living quarters, Zuko's and Iroh's and Jee's and the other officer's, and he couldn't even get to the bridge without going out onto the damn deck.

He headed back down the hall to the door by the deck, and he stayed there, working up his nerve, trying to breathe, trying to remind himself that this was it. Aang needed him here. He crouched down, and at the first scream from the crew on the deck, he darted out. He stumbled, eyes wide as he stared up at the sky, and his lips parted. The breath he managed to drag in was ragged, slim and not at all enough air, but the air was too hot and he could hear crashing, crackling. He could smell something burning as the balls of fire lit up the sky, and his heart skipped a beat as he spotted Appa, so far ahead of them, darting and weaving between the flames.

He turned his head, and the only person on the deck who noticed him was Iroh— clothed now— and for a moment, he stayed perfectly still. Then, when Iroh didn't immediately reach to catch Zuko's attention, Sokka spun on his heel and darted for the next door. He practically rolled down the stairs under the deck of the ship, and he stayed right there for a moment, breathing, trying to convince himself that this was going to be okay. Aang and Appa were good at what they did. They would keep Katara and Suki safe.

Sokka was on his feet moving then, racing down the hallways, looking for the engines, for anything at all that he could break or sabotage. Zuko could not catch up to Aang, could not be allowed to hurt him, or worse, drag him in front of the Fire Lord. The world needed the Avatar too much.

He was thrown to his knees though at the next crash, and smoke billowed out into the hallway before he could even process what was going on. He heard the shouting, and he plunged into the room, holding up his arm over his nose and mouth in an attempt to stop the smoke from making it too hard to breathe.

Metal and fire was everywhere, but Sokka was keyed up this time, drawn as tight as a bowstring, and he didn't so much as even hesitate before he rushed into the chaos and started pulling people out. More than one had bad burns, more than one was unconscious, and he took only long enough to drag them over by the door before he headed right back in to grab someone else. There were four all together, and he met the eyes of the crew, all of whom recognized him. Not a one of them was fooled by his clothing, but no one said anything. Well. Not anything about him not being in his room.

Someone shoved a bucket into his hand, and he glanced down at it, eyes wide for a second before he helped toss the sand onto the flames. It didn't put them out, but it smothered them, made them small enough that they could start bending them away. Sokka ignored that aspect of it. Instead, he was too busy grabbing bucket after bucket, and when there were no more buckets, he felt someone touch his shoulder.

The engine master, and he just touched Sokka's shoulder and guided him over to the wall where he'd helped prop up the guys who had been trapped.

Sokka collapsed there, dropping down to catch his breath. He couldn't stop shaking.

It took him a moment too long to realize that no one had stopped him, no one was calling for Zuko or dragging him back out to throw him back into his room, and Sokka glanced up, eyes narrow and wary before he pushed himself to his feet. No one noticed him. At least, no one looked away from what they were doing. Maybe it was the color of his clothes, maybe it was just that they were all so used to not paying attention to the other reds and blacks moving. Or maybe it was something else.

Sokka couldn't look at that for the moment though. Instead, he just inched out of the engine room and its chaos, and he started down the hallway. It took a little effort to walk slowly and steadily and evenly, like he was supposed to be there, especially when his hands were trembling so hard that he had to clench them into fists just to keep from thinking about it, but he managed it. He managed to get down two more hallways, and there were the smaller boats, the ones they used to navigate rivers or dock at ports too shallow for the main vessel. He didn't let himself think about it, just climbed up into one, and his head lifted every time he heard people running past.

But no one came in here yet, and he set to work, trying to figure out if he could launch the boat himself, if he could get out— where would he even go? Zuko couldn't keep up with Aang and he spent all his days trying. And no matter how much Sokka tried not to think about it, he'd seen that line of Fire Nation ships blocking the border.

Guarding against the Avatar, or were they stopping someone else? How would they have even known that the Avatar was coming?

"We'll use the smoke as cover."

Zuko's voice cut right through Sokka's thoughts, and he dropped like a stone, hitting the deck as quietly as he could, trying to crane his neck enough to let him peer over the edge to see him as he stormed in. Oh, he was angry. Then again, he was always angry. Or determined. Maybe that was just how his determination presented itself.

Still, Sokka wasn't about to wait to see which it was today. Doubtless, after their overnight jaunt through the countryside, Zuko's temper would be shorter than usual, and even if he wasn't angry yet, he would be the minute he remembered that Sokka was supposed to be in his room.

Sokka inched over, and then rolled into the bridge of the small boat he was hiding on.

"I'll take this one and head after the Avatar, while you take the main vessel to use as a decoy, Uncle."

"Prince Zuko," Iroh started, and Sokka could hear the weariness in his voice. For once, he sounded exactly like an old man, like one who had been kept up all night and nearly tortured. He sounded like... well. Nothing like what Sokka had ever expected the Dragon of the West to sound like. "You must not be caught here. You will be arrested—"

Sokka jerked slightly at the thought. Zuko would be arrested? But he was a Prince of the Fire Nation, wasn't he? How could he be arrested? What would they even arrest him for?

"Not if I have the Avatar first," Zuko replied, and he was steady. No, not just steady. Zuko was pleased. He was sure that he'd catch Aang this time. Sokka shivered, wondering just what had happened to give him that kind of confidence.

"Prince Zuko—"

"No. I will catch the Avatar this time, Uncle. I have to. Just take the ship and make a circle back toward Earth Kingdom waters. I will meet you as soon as I have him."

Then footsteps, and Sokka held his breath, sinking further back into the shadows in the bridge, tucked away as far as he could be. The footsteps grew closer, and he reached up, put a hand over his mouth to try to keep from giving himself away. He was still shaking, but it was starting to settle again now, even back out into that ridiculously smooth terror that he only ever got when putting on his warpaint.

It was too bad he didn't have warpaint now. He would have even taken Suki's makeup at this point, just for the ritual.

Then the boat started moving, and his stomach sank. His boat. The one he'd been planning on taking—

But no, maybe this was going to work for him. He was stowed away on the boat Zuko was taking to chase after Aang in, and maybe Sokka could get away from him, warn Aang. He let out his breath between his fingers, trying to keep his shuddering lungs from pushing it all out too fast. Zuko had hearing that was stupidly sharp, and Sokka wasn't sure if even Zuko could hear him over the engines and the metal, but he wasn't about to risk it.

He didn't so much as move a muscle from his hiding spot either. Not until they were on the water, and he heard Zuko leave the bridge. Heading out onto the deck, doubtless, to watch for Appa. Sokka's legs slid down, his thighs screaming from how tensely he'd been sitting.

He must have made too much noise though, because almost immediately, Zuko was back in the bridge, and Sokka stiffened, baring his teeth as Zuko stalked straight over to him. Zuko's hand grabbed the front of Sokka's shirt, and Sokka twisted in his hold, hands coming up to strike at Zuko's elbows in an attempt to make him let go. Zuko's hands flexed on his shirt, and Zuko snarled just as fiercely as Sokka did.

"You're supposed to be in your **room**!"

"And you're supposed to be on your damn boat!" Sokka shoved himself back, hands scrabbling over the counter behind him, but there was nothing there, nothing he could grab, nothing he could strike out at Zuko with. His lips stayed peeled back, flashing teeth warningly, but Zuko didn't seem to even notice as he stepped in close. Too close. All Sokka could feel was the heat off him, and Sokka's mouth was too dry, his trembling too obvious.

"This is my damn boat," Zuko said, and his hands wrapped over Sokka's wrists, hauling his arms in front of him again, where even if there had been something for him to use as a weapon, Sokka couldn't have reached it. "And you are supposed to be on my other one. Why are you covered in smoke?"

Sokka blinked, looking up at Zuko again. His eyes narrowed. Smoke? But Zuko's nose flared as he spoke, and Sokka had assumed that maybe he just smelled it because it was in his own nose from the engine room. He hadn't thought about how it had to be clinging to his clothes.

"Ah, from the engine room," Sokka said after just a second. Zuko's eyes narrowed, and his hold tightened on Sokka's wrists.

"What were you doing in the engine room?" he growled, and Sokka dragged his attention back to Zuko instead of to glancing down at the smoke staining his clothes. The red was dingy. "You could have been killed—"

"So could your men!" Sokka jerked against Zuko, twisting, and all that served was to get him turned around, Zuko against his back, holding his arms crossed over the front of his hips. "Let me go, Zuko."

Zuko growled again— sometimes, Sokka thought that was the only sound he knew how to make— and Sokka wondered if smoke was escaping Zuko. If Sokka had pushed his temper that far all over again. It wouldn't have been the first time, and it wasn't going to be the last. Unless, of course, Zuko did something like dropping him over the edge of the boat. Sokka laughed just a little at the idea, and Zuko shoved him harder against the counter.

"Stop it!" He threw his weight back, and when Zuko shifted to rebrace himself, Sokka wedged his foot between himself and the counter, and he shoved off again, the motion aided by the extra leverage. Zuko stumbled, and that was all Sokka needed. He managed to get himself out of Zuko's hold, and he rolled across the floor, pushing himself up to his feet. He had no skirt to get tangled in this time, and Zuko hesitated for a second as he looked over at Sokka.

For a long moment, neither of them moved so much as a muscle.

The only thing that broke their momentary truce was the sound outside. Water lapping against the ship, still steaming full force ahead, and the birds chirping at the edges of Sokka's hearing. Land wasn't that far then. Maybe close enough that if he broke and ran, dove over the edge of the ship—

"I wouldn't," Zuko murmured. Sokka's eyes snapped back to the prince. He hadn't realized that his gaze had drifted. "Those birds can fly for miles. They'll land on ships and ride them days out into the water. You may hear them, but they're not like birds further south. They don't signify land."

Sokka's lips peeled back to flash teeth again, and this time, Zuko's expression softened. He snorted and pushed himself up again, the tension draining out of him.

"You're trapped here just as well as you had been on the other ship," Zuko decided. "You go over the edge, and you'll drown. Not even you could swim as far as you would need to in order to survive out here."

Sokka bit back the honest answer to that statement— he was from the South Pole; endurance swimming wasn't his thing— and he let himself relax as well, matching Zuko. "And you can't get to the Avatar without me. You won't know where they're going."

Zuko's eyes slid over him, and he snorted. No smoke.

"You don't know where he's going either. You might know the overall location, but you have no idea where we are or what he's doing right now."

"Fire Nation." Sokka lifted his chin a little as he held Zuko's gaze. "We're in the Fire Nation, and you'll be arrested if you are caught here."

There was a question in the statement, but Zuko didn't rise to answer it. Instead, he just crossed the bridge over to Sokka and said, "And what is he doing here in the Fire Nation, Sokka?"

"Whatever it takes to bring it down."


	7. Theft

For a moment, Zuko just stared at him, brow furrowing, temper building— he could feel it, white hot under his skin— and then everything escaped him in a sharp bark of laughter. Sokka jerked beside him, and Zuko headed back out onto the deck, still laughing, the sound nearing the hysterical. Would be about right, wouldn't it, to lose it here, lose it now, when he was so close to his victory that he could taste it.

What would Uncle Iroh say, seeing him come back with the Avatar? He'd be proud to see his nephew's honor restored, see Zuko able to return home, be able to go home with him.

Sokka followed him out slowly, and Zuko spun around to look at him, holding his arms out as the wind blew across the deck. "You have no idea what he's here for! It's obvious. You may know where he's going, but you haven't got a clue what he's doing here. Now."

Sokka's mouth tightened, and he looked away for just a second before his eyes lifted and met Zuko's. His jaw was tight, a muscle jumping there, and Zuko could hear his breathing even over the water and the engine of the boat. Standing there, his skirt— edges ripped up and folded over one another and tied into some kind of pants— whipping in the wind, his hair loose and down around his face, he did look like a girl, and for a second, the thought nearly made Zuko uncomfortable. He wished Sokka had something in his hand, a dao or a boomerang or his own sword-club-thing just to make him look like a threat.

But no matter how delicate, no matter how soft he looked, there was nothing but steel in those eyes, and Zuko found his lips peeling back and his teeth bared in a too-sharp grin. He was so close. He would have the Avatar soon, and a whole boatload of prisoners to take back with him, and his father... his honor would be restored. His father would be able to forgive him and Uncle Iroh wouldn't have to live in this self-imposed exile anymore. And Sokka... well. This charade would be up, wouldn't it? Sokka would be taken with the other prisoners to wherever his father decided to send them, and Zuko wouldn't have to deal with this anymore.

Any of it.

"You don't know, and you have only one use on this trip." Zuko advanced on Sokka then, and before Sokka could stop him, could even get his hands up to defend himself, Zuko had kicked him in the back of the knee and taken him down. He twisted around to get his knee in the small of Sokka's back, reached down to un-knot the ties that kept the ripped skirt around Sokka's ankles, and used that fabric to tie Sokka's wrists together behind his back. Sokka wasn't a bender or anything else dangerous, so he didn't require more than that to effectively keep him helpless, and for a moment, Zuko felt something twist in his chest at the realization.

Then he rolled Sokka over, saw the way Sokka was still struggling against him, bucking and snarling, and Zuko grinned, slow and sharp. Helpless. The word fit Sokka about as well as it did old Uncle Iroh.

"Trade you," Zuko finally said, and he leaned down to haul Sokka up to his feet again— without the ties around his ankles, the skirt billowed out in the wind just below Sokka's knees— and took him back inside, "for the Avatar. Doubtless, the Water Tribe girl will want you back."

"She won't trade him for me," Sokka countered sharply, twisting out of Zuko's hold. The boat was moving too fast for him to stay steady on his feet with the amount of force he used, and he crashed into the floor after only a moment. Zuko raised an eyebrow, but made no move to help him; it took Sokka a minute to get to where he was sitting somewhat upright again.

"She'll trade for you. If you don't know that, you're an idiot," Zuko finally said. He glanced away from Sokka toward the water again. He couldn't stop seeing Sokka's face when he'd lunged for her necklace. Yeah. If she cared even half as much for him as he did for her, she'd trade. She'd probably do it gladly.

"She can't, you idiot," Sokka snarled, and Zuko glanced back down at him just to see that light in his face, all fierce, all fight. He never got tired of seeing that in Sokka's face. "She's got a duty to our tribe. To the Avatar. To the whole world that the Fire Nation is bent on destroying!" He jerked, an attempt to get his feet over to kick Zuko, but with the speed the boat was going, the movement just served to make him crash into the floor again. He laid there, chest heaving, and for a long moment, Zuko just stared at him. Watched him.

Then he sighed and moved over to Sokka. He wrapped one hand in Sokka's hair and used it to keep Sokka from fighting him too much— leaning forward and biting, and judging from the bared teeth that glinted at him, that had been exactly what Sokka had planned on doing— as he helped sit Sokka back up against one of the walls there in the bridge.

"I understand duty," he finally said, and his voice was too rough. This was getting to him too much, and he never should have underestimated just how much Uncle Iroh's warning would apply here. He was working to bend Sokka to him, but all he seemed to be doing was letting the idiot Water Tribe boy bend him instead. He was too gentle as he dusted off Sokka's side and the motion that smoothed Sokka's hair again was too familiar, too easy. He couldn't afford this kind of thing, and what the hell was he even thinking anyway? Dishonored prince, what good was he to anyone? "But I have a duty too," he said, and then he stood up and ignored the tears standing in Sokka's eyes as he turned back to the wheel for the ship that he'd left alone for too long.

There was a loud thunk, and Zuko didn't have to look back to know it was Sokka hitting his head against the wall. He had fractured his own knuckles too many times making the same sound with his hands, and it echoed hollowly in the bridge.

Neither of them spoke again until Zuko spotted the flying beast the Avatar used, and even then, it was more of an exchange of looks than words. He pulled the boat up to the shore. They both had too much riding on this, too much to lose. So much at stake, and Zuko's jaw clenched as he looked at Sokka, still there on the floor, his knees against his chest. For a moment, Zuko's heart skipped a beat— Sokka had his head on his knees, looking out the windows to the front, his hair falling around his face— and then Sokka jerked up to look at him and there it was.

All that fire.

Zuko could bend that.

He dropped down beside Sokka, and he checked the knots, making sure everything would hold before he stood up and headed to the door.

"Hey, wait, I thought you were trading me—"

Zuko looked back at him, and his lips pressed together for a second before he said, "She won't trade him for you."

Then he left Sokka in the bridge, shouting and screeching about how he didn't come along on this little excursion just to stay in the boat. Zuko's lips quirked at the thought, and he shook his head before he started looking for a way into the temple.

Finding the temple wasn't actually difficult, nor was navigating the thing, with all the noise that was being made. Zuko only had to wait, to get his ear against one of the walls and close his eyes and listen, and eventually... there it was. Three sets of light feet darting across the stone, and he smiled, sharp and slow and all edges, before he started to follow them. The hard part was actually catching the Avatar. Zuko didn't want to draw any more attention than he had to, and they were always so close, so tight in...

And the girl in green had a fan out. Zuko remembered those fans— still had the ones Sokka had been using and more than once he'd picked them up just to admire their craftsmanship and the sheer edge on them— and he had no plans on inviting one of those before he had some kind of leverage. His lips pressed together, and instead of rushing in, he waited. Watched them struggle with the door, trying to figure out how to get it open. Five firebenders were needed to open it, and they only had the two, the traitorous sage and the Avatar. He inched closer, trying to move as little as possible, not wanting to alert their screeching lemur to his presence before he had to.

"But wait," the Water Tribe girl had a cadence almost identical to her brother's even if their voices were nothing alike, and Zuko's eyes widened at the sound of it. "We don't actually have to get in; we just have to make it look like we did!"

"Because that will let Aang talk to Avatar Roku," the girl in green retorted, and her fingers were tracing the door, skimming over the wood. Zuko couldn't help but hear it, especially when he was focused so much on this room, on his mission at hand.

"It will! Because then all the sages can come in—"

"And they'll open the door!" The Avatar sounded so much like a child that it unsettled Zuko's stomach. Aang, Sokka called him, instead of any proper title, and Zuko tried to imagine calling his father that, calling him by anything that wasn't his title.

His eye twitched, and he reached up to rub it for a second before he forced his hand down.

"Right, so all we need is to get Momo inside, and they'll see his shadow and assume the door has been opened!"

It was a foolish plan— but then again, who was Zuko to judge, and it took some effort for him not to laugh, not to summon up Sokka's derisive grin every time Zuko spotted the Avatar or heard some rumor of him and took off after him. But in the end, the traitor ran off to find the others, and Zuko heard some faint rattling, some tinging as the lemur crawled through the door, and the three of them darted around behind pillars to hide. The girls took one pillar, probably so that they could leap out as a distraction, and Zuko had to admire their guts (he wondered if they had the same kind of fire in them that Sokka had in him), and the Avatar...

The Avatar went off on his own. Behind the pillar closest to Zuko's.

The first bit of luck Zuko had his whole life.

Zuko inched around to him then, and just as the sages came charging around the corner to open the doors, he caught the Avatar by the arm. Those eyes went wide, and Zuko shoved him face first against one of the pillars. He could hear shouting, but none of it mattered anymore. Not until he heard that familiar cadence, the girl shouting for him to go now.

He got a better grip on the Avatar's wrists and stepped out with him, pleased and too wary of losing him all over again to let it show. "The Avatar is coming with me," he growled, and he didn't bother to wait to see the sages turn the tables on the Avatar's little team. "Chain them!" He headed toward the stairs, jerking the Avatar along, and he had to focus to keep the squirming kid from getting out of his hold, only—

Too late, the brat was shoving off of him and there was that cutting blast of air across his face— every nerve ending in his scar burned at the sensation, and he flinched automatically— and darting across the room.

"Go, Aang!"

And then he was inside, the doors slamming shut behind him, and Zuko's heart stopped for a second before he shoved up and raced after him. A sharp, brilliant blue light filled the room and they all flinched from that before Zuko spun on his heel to look at the sages.

"With me!" he snarled, and all four of them fell into place with him in stances to blast fire at the door. Blast after blast after blast, and Zuko's rage burned hotter and hotter each time the door stayed closed. "What is wrong with this thing—?"

"Avatar Roku," one of the sages said, glancing over at Zuko. "He locked us out. He must have—"

"The light," another one agreed.

Zuko was sure that when he snarled all over again, smoke escaped him, and judging from the way the sages drew back from him, he must have been right. He stalked across the room and just as he went to slam his hand against the door, there was a low chuckle—

"Well, well, what have we here?"

That voice was low, soft and smooth and so smug that Zuko wanted to blast the man just for existing. He should have known better than to hope that he had more than just a few minutes lead on Zhao. He turned his head, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of red and black and dark skin and darker hair that Zhao reached back for and pulled around in front of him.

Sokka glanced up at Zuko, and Zuko only managed another breath when he realized that Sokka was just as furious as he by this turn of events.

"A dishonored prince who has, once again, failed to capture the Avatar. At least you managed to get his little entourage, yes, Zuko?"

Zuko bared his teeth, and he jerked his gaze back to the door. Still glowing, and he felt so much heat under his skin that he thought he might burn alive before he could find a place to release it. "General Zhao," he said lowly, and his voice shook from the force of his anger. "Are you here to offer your assistance?"

"I found something of yours," Zhao said, and he stepped closer, shoving Sokka forward with it. It was then that the Water Tribe girl recognized him, Zuko knew, because she gasped.

"Sokka," she breathed, but Zuko didn't think it was loud enough for Zhao to hear. Just as well.

"What makes you think that's mine?"

"Well, she was on your boat," Zhao said, glancing down at Sokka, tipping his head slightly before his eyes rose back up to Zuko. His eyebrow raised, and Zuko had to clench his fists. "Shouting so desperately for you. Poor girl doesn't even have a voice left, you know. Bit rude, wasn't it, leaving your guest all trussed up on the boat while you came in here to have your fun? Or were you just planning on letting the Avatar go and you didn't want her to see what a traitor you are?"

"… Supposed to stay on the boat," Zuko growled, and his mind raced ahead, trying to figure out if Zhao knew, if he was jerking Zuko's chain by calling Sokka a girl, or if he genuinely thought... If Sokka had shouted himself hoarse for real, Zhao might chalk his low voice up to that, and in those clothes with his hair down...

"None of you listen to orders well," Zhao agreed, and he shoved Sokka back to one of his men before he advanced across the room toward Zuko. "And now I have a whole boatload of prisoners to take back to the Fire Lord. What do you think he'll say when he gets all of these prisoners?"

Zuko jerked when someone grabbed him from behind, and he twisted sharply, but there was no getting out of that hold. "You're too late, Zhao! The Avatar is inside and the doors are sealed." It was a hollow victory, and when Zhao simply laughed, Zuko felt his stomach sinking even more.

"It doesn't matter. Sooner or later, he has to come out."

Zuko jerked against the chains that they wrapped around him, but he knew. He knew better, watching them all line up in front of the door. All of them except for the one over to the side still holding Sokka. His eyes cut across to Sokka, but he was too busy meeting the girls' eyes, and Zuko swallowed before he followed Sokka's gaze toward them.

The Water Tribe girl— had to be his sister, as much as they looked alike, as much as they sounded alike— hadn't taken her eyes off him, but she kept her mouth shut. It was the other one, the one in green, who kept starting to say something only to get the Water Tribe girl elbowing her in the side. Smart girl, realizing that if they thought Sokka was a girl, that Sokka wasn't actually Zuko's prisoner, but someone Zuko... what, cared about? Was that where Zhao was going with that? Zuko swallowed, trying to imagine what exactly, Zhao would do with that, and then his attention snapped back to the girls, whispering lowly between themselves.

"—in a dress, Katara. What's going on?"

"I don't know, but shh. We can't... Oh, Suki, how are we going to get out of this?"

Zuko snorted faintly, smoke escaping him, and he focused on heating himself up as much as he could, same as his uncle had taught him. It was a useful skill, one they'd perfected when traveling around the South Pole, and Zuko was grateful now. His skin burned at the feel, even to himself, but more importantly, the metal cuffs around his wrists were heating up, and eventually, if he could stand the feel longer than it took to weaken them, he could pull himself free. And then... And then what? He could hear Sokka asking him that, same as he did every time Zuko laid out a plan or changed their course.

And then what, and then what, and Zuko hated when he asked that, when he made Zuko focus beyond the thing at hand. None of the 'and then what' mattered until Zuko had the Avatar, because none of it was going to be real before then. Sokka though, he didn't understand that, and Zuko didn't think he ever would. He was more like Uncle Iroh, able to watch the damned Pai Sho board and see more moves ahead than had been played. It was the reason Sokka always lost to Uncle Iroh, because no one saw as far ahead as he did.

The skill hadn't earned him Ba Sing Se though.

Zuko's attention snapped up to the door when he heard Zhao's low, "Ready."

The world was soft, slippery and so easy to tune out, but every nerve in Zuko's body was alight for the order in ways that had nothing to do with the sheer amount of heat pouring off his skin. He was burning everything out, leaving only his focus, his knowledge that he had to do something, had to move before he exploded.

The doors flew open, and flame lit the world, scorched out so much air that Zuko couldn't breathe, but one of the girls— Katara— had enough in her lungs to shout, and Zuko jerked. The chains snapped and gave way just as fire burned past him, singeing his nose and filling his lungs for a second. He glanced up, saw the girls pulling free, their chains gone because the Avatar had recognized his allies, had freed them even while he'd knocked all the red and black to the ground, and Zuko didn't stop moving.

He ran. Sokka was one of the Avatar's allies, and the girls had been a whirlwind of motion before Zuko had even managed to start staggering down the stairs.


	8. Pai-Sho

The fire was so hot that Sokka couldn't breathe. Or maybe he couldn't breathe because of how the soldier had pressed Sokka hard against the wall to shield him from the flames. Sokka gasped and shoved him away, jerking and dropping down to his knees to drag in air, and his eyes opened to blink against the light. Suki and Katara were gone, but he hadn't expected them to stay. They weren't used to traveling with him by now, and doubtless, they'd just grabbed Aang and ran.

No, he was looking for Zuko, and he saw the chains where Zuko had been restrained, their edges melted and twisted and there was no Zuko. No Zuko at all—

"Poor dear," a low voice murmured, and Sokka glanced up at the man who'd taken him off Zuko's ship. Zhao, Zuko had called him. "Left all alone. Looks like he won't miss you at all, will he?"

Sokka's lips parted, and then he snapped his mouth shut. It was better not to say anything, not when he didn't know Zhao, didn't know how to play this. This man, with all his dangerous grace, wasn't Zuko, and Sokka needed to remember that. He swallowed as Zhao leaned down and caught him by the front of his dress and hauled him up to his feet.

"What, no tongue left, princess? Just as well." Zhao shoved him away, and one of the soldiers caught him and kept him steady. Sokka snarled, baring his teeth, and Zhao laughed at him before he turned on his heels to look at the fire sages.

"... Shackle the traitors. We'll take them to the Fire Lord to be punished for their crimes in assisting the Avatar's escape."

Sokka's eyes widened, and all the Fire Sages jerked as soldiers started grabbing them.

"But General, there is only one traitor among us—"

"And yet I have no Avatar," Zhao yelled back, and Sokka jerked at the smoke escaping him. "No Avatar, and no traitor prince." His voice dropped, and somehow, that had Sokka's skin crawling even more than if he'd stayed yelling. "But the Fire Lord will appreciate five traitorous sages, have no doubt. He will judge your innocence, not me." And with that, Zhao spun on his heel and stalked out, his soldiers immediately falling in behind him. Sokka drew a deep breath, trying to brace himself, trying to decide what, exactly, he was going to do here. This man was not Zuko, was not Iroh, and Zhao... Zhao would turn him over to the Fire Lord immediately if he thought it would serve him well.

"And the girl?" The soldier holding him was the closest to Zhao, and Sokka shivered at the way the question drew Zhao's attention right back to him. He didn't want Zhao looking at him, didn't want Zhao noticing him anymore than he had to.

"... Put her in my quarters. I'll be in to question her shortly," he said, and then he was gone, taking half his men with him to make some kind of sweep through the temple. Just to be certain they had all the traitors. Sokka swallowed as the soldier sighed.

Zuko's ship was exactly like the one they boarded, and Sokka wanted laugh when he realized that Zhao used the same quarters. They had to be the nicest quarters then, the largest, and Sokka glanced across the hall, where his room would have been on Zuko's ship. He missed the security of knowing that even if Zuko was trying to trick him into giving up so much, Zuko was still going to keep him safe.

Zhao would not be so kind.

... Unless he thought Sokka had something useful. Backing or some kind of value beyond being a prisoner of the Fire Nation prince. Sokka swallowed again, and the guard checked his restraints before he guided Sokka to kneel on one of the cushions. The table was exactly the sort Zuko used. The hand was gentle at Sokka's elbow, and there was a sharp flash of certainty through Sokka that they did believe he was a girl. They had to.

He didn't pass up the opportunity to smile at the guard, and the soldier went still at it for a second before he said, "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

Sokka's throat ached. He had shouted himself hoarse when Zuko had left him on the boat. But he smiled just a little wider and dropped his gaze. He'd seen Katara do that when she was feeling a little shy in front of strangers. "Water, please," he managed, and with his voice as hoarse as it was, perhaps they wouldn't notice that it was too deep, too low to be a girl. Maybe by the time it came back, he could fake something a little higher.

The guard nodded, and he left Sokka only long enough to go to the door. He leaned out, spoke to someone, and then stayed over there, waiting. He pulled off his face mask so that he could smile back, and Sokka looked away. He couldn't make himself blush, but he could give the impression that he was doing so. Hopefully. He'd never tried to pass a girl before. Everyone on Zuko's ship knew full well that he was a boy, no matter how Zuko dressed him. They helped him navigate the ship and sit and such, but it was as much for practical reasons as for any sort of ingrained politesse. The skirts and dresses that Zuko supplied him with were not practical for living on the ship. More often than not, Sokka needed a hand to steady himself to keep from tangling himself in them.

It was several minutes before the door eased open, and the guard traded his face mask for the glass before he came back over to Sokka. Sokka started to reach for it only to realize that his wrists were still tied behind him.

The guard gave him another small smile— apologizing, maybe— and held the glass up to Sokka's lips. Drinking like that was odd, but the water was cooler than Sokka expected it to be. He drank the whole thing, following it forward every time the guard started to pull it back.

It wasn't until after it was gone that he remembered a girl wouldn't have done that. He managed another smile, ducked his head, and counted to three while waiting for the soldier to step back over to the door. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and the door opened up again. The guard traded the glass for his mask again, put it back on, and then they were both quiet while they waited. By the time the door opened again, Sokka's legs were cramping.

This time the door eased open and Zhao stepped through, looking over at Sokka before he tilted his head. "Get out," he said, and the guard vanished, not needing Zhao to say it twice. Zhao locked the door behind him, and Sokka drew a deep breath, trying to sit up as straight as possible. He made sure to meet Zhao in the eyes, same as he always had Zuko, and he tried not to show the way he trembled.

"General," he managed, and his throat hurt but less this time than when he'd asked for the water.

"Mm. Princess," Zhao replied, and he walked over to Sokka, studying him with far more intent than Sokka wanted him too. "At least, I am assuming you are a princess now. Or to be, maybe. Is that what he promised you?"

Sokka wasn't quite sure what Zhao thought, exactly. He'd found Sokka tied up on Zuko's boat, but Zuko had tied him up with pieces torn from his own dress. Was Zhao assuming that Zuko had tied him up to keep him there? Not because Sokka would help the Avatar, but he was... what, concerned that Sokka might end up in some kind of crossfire? Was he assuming that Sokka was with Zuko on his own free will?

"It isn't his promises I worry over," Sokka replied, tilting his chin up a little more. "It's," he had to swallow just to keep his voice going, "what you are now. My rescuer or my jailor?"

Zhao went still for that. For a long moment, they were both quiet, studying one another, trying to figure out how best to play one another. It was easier, somehow, meeting Zhao's gaze like this than it had ever been to hold Zuko's.

"Were you in need of rescuing then?" Zhao murmured.

Sokka looked away, across the table toward the rest of the room. It was a trick he'd seen Katara do more than once, especially when she was trying to pull something over one of the ladies in the village. "Depends on what promises you're offering," he said, and his voice was hoarse enough that it was almost too low to hear. Zhao had to lean in when Sokka spoke.

"I can see what attracted him to you," Zhao said, and when he leaned back, he was chuckling. Sokka hoped that was a good thing, and kept his gaze trained on a spot on the wall across from him. "Sitting there, covered in soot and smoke and you destroyed your clothes, and you look to bargain with me? Is that the Water Tribe's secret to their survival? Being so willing to make deals?"

"The Water Tribe will never bend to the Fire Nation," Sokka retorted, looking up at Zhao again. His lips pressed together hard to keep himself from trying to say more, trying to threaten.

"So fierce." Zhao's voice was downright admiring, and he reached up, brushed back Sokka's hair from his face. Sokka snatched back, almost upsetting his own balance in the process, and Zhao's hand dropped down to his arm to keep him upright. "There now, princess, I have no intention of landing you in the brig. Clearly, however, I must show you proper Fire Nation hospitality. Did your prince not let you see what a generous man our Fire Lord is?"

"I know what sort of man he is," Sokka said, and he bared his teeth.

"Then you do seek to replace him. Surely not with Zuko. The boy is a fool." Zhao grinned, and he leaned down to untie Sokka's wrists, let him move again. It took everything Sokka had to keep from lunging, to keep from trying to pull that sword from Zhao's belt. But he'd seen Zhao bend fire, and he had no desire to wear a scar that matched Zuko's. "Has he told you yet, why he chases the Avatar so desperately? Did he even tell you that he truly is banished, unable to return home?"

Sokka's breath caught at the words, and Zhao's grin widened. He leaned back some.

"The fool boy spoke out of turn in the war council. Doubted the wisdom of his elders. When confronted about his arrogance, he agreed to an Agni Kai. The most vicious and decisive of all the firebender duels. Something should, I suppose, be said for his willingness to act; there was no hesitation in his acceptance."

There was a long moment of quiet before Zhao finally continued. Sokka was sure he was supposed to say something there, but he wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure he even could say anything.

"But it doesn't matter. The Agni Kai came and he froze the moment the Fire Lord turned to meet him."

Sokka's lips parted, his eyes widening. The Fire Lord? But Zuko was the prince. That meant he'd... what, dueled his father?

"And the boy threw himself on the floor and begged for forgiveness. Shameful." Zhao spoke with relish, tasting each word, and Sokka's skin crawled at the amusement he could see there. "I mean, really, what did the boy expect after disrespecting his father in such a way? Of course the Fire Lord used the moment to teach him a lesson about respect." Zhao leaned back in close to Sokka. "Because respect is something that we take very seriously, princess."

It was an effort to close his mouth, to make himself focus, and Sokka lifted his chin, kept his eyes on Zhao's. "You think me some uncivilized bumpkin, don't you?" he said, and his voice was even rougher. His eyes burned, but he dared not blink for fear that something might spill over. He couldn't think about Zuko's scar, about any of this. Too much rode on him now.

"I think you are a smart girl," Zhao countered, and it took Sokka a half a second too long to process what Zhao was looking at him like that for. It clicked when Zhao's hand raised and brushed his fingers against the side of Sokka's face, and Sokka jerked away. Heat built in his face as he tried not to outright snarl. "Young though. You can be forgiven a few mistakes."

His only mistake had been thinking he could play this. Sokka swallowed, and when Zhao touched two fingers to his chin, he pushed himself up to his feet. It was an absent gesture that he used to dust off his skirt. "Yes, well, that would presume that I have made mistakes to forgive," he said, struggling to keep his expression even. "Thus far, I have committed to nothing."

Zhao shifted, but Sokka kept his attention on the decor in the room, on walking in slow, small steps around the table Zhao had seated him at. He could remember his mother walking this way when she had on more skirts. "Nothing? Surely not. You have committed to something or Zuko would not be carting you about the oceans."

His pulse was too fast. Purposely, he tried to focus on the rhythm of the ocean. It was the same ocean that touched the poles, the same water that their benders drew their power from. While he was only a warrior, he liked to think that maybe it could sense the Water Tribe in his blood and give him some kind of power too.

"Zuko and I have reached an understanding," he said, and he glanced over at Zhao before he made him smile. "It took us some time to do so, and I am not so quick to throw it out yet, you understand."

Zhao's smile faded, and he stood up. Sokka's breath hitched, but he held his ground as Zhao approached him and bent down so that his face was much closer to Sokka. "I would not cling to such a boy for overly long, my dear," he said, and how soft his voice had gone sent chills down Sokka's back.

"So long as he upholds his end, I will do the same." Sokka looked up at Zhao, and when he noticed the heat building in the air between them, he smiled as disarmingly as he could manage. "Do you play Pai Sho, General?"

Sokka's change of direction threw Zhao, and he glanced toward the door for a heartbeat before he answered. "Of course."

"You can hardly expect me to strike deals with a man I just met," Sokka replied. "A game, General. Let me get to know you."

For a long moment, Sokka didn't think Zhao would respond, and then he stalked over and jerked the door open. He spoke to the guard outside, his voice too low for Sokka to hear, and when he stepped back inside, he was calmer. Sokka wasn't sure that was a good thing, but until proven otherwise, he chose to take it as such.

He smoothed his hands over his ruined skirts, and he tried to ignore the soot that smeared across his palms when he glanced down at them. Zhao walked over to him, and he guided Sokka back to the table with the same not-quite-touch that Zuko used. It was a Fire Nation thing then, but it didn't make Sokka feel the same way.

When Zuko did it, it was so absent, so thoughtless that Sokka could convince himself that it had long since been ingrained in him. Iroh was much the same, only Sokka could feel nothing but warmth and affection for the old man.

When Zhao did it, his skin crawled and he wasn't sure why, wasn't sure how it made so much difference coming from him.

"By all means, princess," Zhao said, and his quiet voice had Sokka's stomach twisting in his middle. "Let us be civilized. A game. And then we will dock, and I will have my men find you something to wear."

"So I am your prisoner," Sokka said, letting Zhao 'help' steady him as he sank down on the cushion at the table. It was no longer a conscious thought to kneel properly, and that burned. Then again, what did Zuko do that didn't burn Sokka somehow?

Stupid firebenders.

"You are an honored guest," Zhao replied, and Sokka drew a breath to steady himself.

The Pai Sho game had begun then, long before the board ever arrived. He smiled, wide and serene. He could still feel the rhythm of the waters under the boat, the waters that matched the blood in his veins. And he tipped his head the way he'd seen Katara do so that his hair fell into his eyes.

"Am I, General? You will not go with me to pick out my clothes then?"

It would be a coup if they were going into Fire Nation territory, and he knew that Zhao would see it as such. It would be an opportunity for him to flaunt the Water Tribe Princess he'd recovered from the exiled prince. But it was worth much more to Sokka, to pick his own clothes.

Girl clothes, mind, but that was no matter.

( _Silk for the brave blood, gold for honor._ )

He would wear this uniform to his grave if he had to. The chance to see a real Fire Nation settlement, particularly one Zhao was likely to dock at for repairs and replenishment and the exchange of prisoners, would be invaluable.

Because one way or another, Sokka was getting back to Aang. He didn't care who he would need to attack to do it.

(That wasn't true. He did care. He couldn't imagine seeing Iroh laid out on the deck in a pool of blood. He couldn't imagine dueling Zuko and winning now that he'd watched the prince fight. That he would have to win was little consequence. It didn't change that he was almost certain that fight would end in only one outcome for him.)

Zhao's eyes narrowed, and then he leaned forward.

"Would you like to go ashore with me then?"

Sokka ducked his head so that his smile would look something like demure and not the victory it was. "Why, General Zhao, I would be honored."

Maybe he was a bender after all.


	9. Honorless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I fell and broke my knee earlier in the year, and I only really just managed to pick up the pieces enough to work on this story again. So sorry about the delay here, guys, but fingers crossed, here's hoping I've used up all my amounts of crazy luck for the year and things will smooth out.
> 
> I already have part of the next chapter written, and I'm hoping to get it up next week and work out another weekly update schedule. That being said, I could really use a beta reader. I have too many fics going on at the same time to proofread these chapters as thoroughly as I'd like, so if you are interested in betaing these chapters before they go up, shoot me an email or leave me a comment! I will probably use a google doc, but we can also work out a system for emailing or something if that appeals to you more. I'm pretty flexible about the whole thing. I mostly need a beta reader for, you know, really basic grammar and making sure I don't do something dumb like switch names around in a scene or something. Thanks for your time!

The print was larger than he was used to, flowers spilling into one another in a bold wash of colors on some of the softest silk Zuko had ever touched. He didn't remember reaching out to touch it, didn't remember making the decision to let the back of his hand brush against it. He couldn't even remember making the decision to walk over to this shop.

But Iroh was two shops down— he could still hear his uncle talking to the shopkeeper, asking about that lotus tile— and Zuko couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from the fabric. Sokka would like it, and for a second, Zuko's head lifted to locate the shopkeeper here. Then he caught himself, swallowed, and looked back down at the fabric. Sokka was back with the Avatar now, wasn't he? Safe with his friends, probably delighting in wearing his pants and painting his face in that clammy gray and white that looked like nothing more than a corpse.

That was the point, of course, same as the wide and intimidating masks of the Fire Nation.

Zuko couldn't even remember what Sokka had looked like in the blue of his home tribe. He remembered the girl's outfit, loose and flowing and more water than anything else he'd seen someone wear, but Sokka hadn't worn that.

"May I help you?"

Zuko jerked his hand down and looked over at the shopkeeper, his words stuck in his throat before he managed to get enough breath to dislodge them. They came out in a burst like the first spark of a fire. "Don't be stupid," he snarled, and he stalked out of the shop to find his idiot uncle. Sokka probably had his lotus tile, honestly, and none of that mattered. How could it?

Sokka was long gone.

"Prince Zuko," Iroh called, and Zuko stopped mid-stride to turn and look back over his shoulder at his uncle. "Can you believe it? Not a single store in this marketplace has a lotus tile."

Zuko blew out a breath, and his hand clenched in a fist before he shook his head. "Just as well. Waste of time for everyone, wasn't it?"

Iroh studied him for a minute, and then he tipped his head toward the soldiers he'd brought with them. Zuko's stomach sank as he realized that his uncle had apparently not needed to just buy the lotus tile. They were all burdened with piles of things. Junk. His uncle was talking, saying something about finding things he hadn't realized he needed, but all Zuko could see was the twisted brass instrument in the back. His breath caught in his throat, and he stared at it for a long moment.

"A tsungi horn?" he asked softly, and he hadn't even realized he'd spoken aloud. He could remember the last time he'd played a tsungi horn, and it wasn't exactly the sort of memory he wanted to relive. It wasn't the sort of thing he wanted to carry with him, let alone think about, but seeing it...

All he could think of was his father's voice. His mother's hands on the papers, shuffling his music sheets, and his father's voice a sharp crack of a whip in the room.

Zuko had, after all, had far more important things to spend his time on. Back then, his firebending was some of the most pitiful anyone had seen in the royal family in generations. And now...

Well. Now he had the scar across his face and less honor left to him than even the Avatar. And the Avatar had tucked tail and run from his duties for over a hundred years.

Zuko's teeth ground together, and Iroh's hand touched his arm lightly.

"For music night," he said, and Zuko couldn't quite stop the way he was starting to shake at the thought. He snatched his arm back from Iroh's touch, and he pointed to the boats anchored along the harbor.

"Few more places to look," he said. They had to find the lotus tile just to keep Iroh from insisting they stop at every market between here and the Avatar.

He wasn't surprised when Iroh found yet more to buy, and he rifled through the scrolls and books almost absently. He nearly missed hearing the pirates whispering, but his ears pricked at the mention of the bald monk. He looked back at them, watching the way their fingers caressed the hilts of their daggers, watching the way the menace seemed to drip off them.

No matter how they moved though, they didn't have the training he did. They didn't have his desperation. The smile that curved his mouth was, from their expressions, not exactly pleasant, and he left his uncle inspecting some statue as he approached the captain.

"This bald monk," he asked lowly, "did he have an arrow on his head?"

He wasn't entirely sure the captain was going to answer him at first, but Zuko shifted his weight and held his gaze, and after just a second, his smile faded completely. He slammed a hand down on the table between them, leaned forward, and demanded lowly, "I asked you a question."

The captain waved off the other pirates, and when it was only Zuko and the captain and Uncle Iroh somewhere in the back of the room, the captain said, "What do you know about him?"

His smile returned. If the Avatar was here, then Sokka and his sister and the other girl were all here too. He could corral them all and return home and get everything back. "Enough," he replied. "What did they steal?"

* * *

The hardest part after that had been getting away from the captain, but Zuko had everything he needed from them. He didn't need their men, didn't need their ship. He'd only needed to know where to look, and since they'd stolen a waterbending scroll, that told him everything he'd needed to know.

He'd set the pirates to combing through the woods, and he took the boat upstream, eyes scanning the riverbanks as they moved. Iroh stayed with him as he always did, and neither of them spoke as the sun slowly set. He stayed on deck, watching and waiting and listening, and right as he thought he would have to give in to the weight of his uncle's gaze, he heard it.

A soft exclamation, frustrated muttering. The splash of water. He knew that sound, even if the water punctuating it was strange. It should have been the crackle of flame, the sudden whoosh of a flare up, the low pop of anything flammable cracking when the fire had run its course. But that sound, that was the sound of someone practicing, the rhythm of learning to bend.

Strange to think it might be so universal.

He had his men pull the boat against the bank, and he took only a few of his men as they crept through the darkness. They reached the bank, mostly shielded from the rest of the river, and he watched as the sister glanced between the scroll and her own hands. The water wasn't listening to her, not yet, and even Zuko could see that it was because of how she stood, how little she trusted herself.

He'd never realized how young she had to be.

How old did that make Sokka?

His brow furrowed, and when she looked back to the water, he moved, darting out to wrap a hand over her mouth and pull her back against him. She fought without needing to think about it, jerking and snarling and her fingers spasmed as she tried to find the water, tried to defend herself.

He crushed her back to his chest, and he murmured in her ear, "You have no idea what I'm saving you from. There are pirates looking for you."

She growled against his hand, and she twisted and bucked, fighting him just as thoroughly as Sokka ever had.

(The flames had gleamed in his eyes as they darted down the length of the blade Sokka had stolen from him, and nothing had ever taken Zuko's breath quite as much as that moment.)

He let his hand slide off her mouth just enough that she could get words out, but the words she chose to fling had him made him stop.

"Give him back," she snarled, and Zuko was shocked enough that she managed to wrest herself free from him. She spun on her heel, hands coming up in that deceptively limp-wristed waterbending pose, but there was no water in her face. Only the solid rock of the earth and the blaze of a fire he'd only ever seen in one other person. "Give Sokka back to me!"

His lips parted for just a second, and then he snarled back, heat racing down his skin. How _dare_ she—

"Don't play dumb," he growled. " _You_ have him."

"You took him on Kyoshi Island," she shot back, and one of his men broke rank behind him. She didn't so much as hesitate before she cracked the soldier in the face with the water rapidly surging behind her.

Desperation always made bending much easier; Zuko knew that more intimately than he ever liked admitting.

"And he got back to you on the solstice, didn't he? Got loose and ran when the rest of you did!"

Her anger faltered. Someone else might not have noticed, not with how nothing else about her changed, but he'd spent too long reading her brother now. He could see her resolve crumbling, see the way the tides shifted in her face. The muscles right around her lips relaxed, and his own breath was suddenly too shallow.

"You don't have him."

He wasn't sure which of them said it. They might have said it together for all that it mattered. What was important was that Sokka wasn't with the Avatar, and if he wasn't with the Avatar and wasn't on Zuko's ship—

"Where is he?" she said, and her voice was dangerous and soft. Water than ran deeper than he would have guessed, and Zuko glanced over at her before he swallowed. There was only one place Sokka could be, and that...

He shook his head, taking half a step back from her. If Sokka was there, if he was trapped with Zhao, there was no telling what was happening. Zhao was an honorless man, and more importantly than that, Zhao wouldn't be as patient with Sokka as Zuko had been. He didn't have Uncle Iroh to keep him calm, to keep his strategy together.

"You know who has him," the girl accused, and Zuko couldn't look at her. He just kept seeing Sokka and his dress, seeing all that fire in his eyes as he'd looked up at Zuko. Zuko hadn't given him a weapon on the island, hadn't expected Sokka to be captured. What did Zhao even make of him?

No. More importantly, who did Zhao think Sokka was? Or was Sokka already..?

Water whipped toward him, and Zuko immediately moved without so much as a thought. He looked back up at her, dark hair hanging loose around her face, tension drawing her fingers into sharper curves than they normally kept. Her lips pressed together, and then the words burst from her, "I'm going with you to get him."

"You're not," Zuko shot back, and then he realized what he'd said. When had he even decided he was going to get Sokka? When had it become something obvious enough that even she could pick up on it? "You're going to stay right here and keep the Avatar as far away from Zhao as you can."

She lifted her head, and for a second, she looked enough like Sokka that Zuko could almost believe...

He didn't let himself move back though, just held her eyes until she finally took half a step back herself, her arms slowly crossing over her chest.

"Or what?" she asked, and Zuko's brow furrowed at the thought.

'Or what?' What did she think 'or what'? He growled, and he stepped toward her, fists low at his sides. "Or Zhao will have the Avatar, and we'll _both_ lose."

He didn't wait for her answer before he turned on his heel and left her there on the dark riverbank.

* * *

"We're leaving," Zuko shouted, the moment his boots hit the deck. The ship was quiet for only a moment, and then everything started moving, everyone on board slowly lurching into action. Zuko stalked straight into the bridge, hands pressing flat against the map. He leaned over the table there, and he could hear his uncle come in behind him.

"And just where are we going, Prince Zuko?" he asked mildly, and Zuko's teeth ground together before he looked back over his shoulder at his uncle.

"The Fire Nation," he replied. He ignored the sharp breath that he heard several of the men take, and he looked back at the map. He focused on the temple, on where Zhao had been and where he would have taken his prisoners. He'd had the sages, of course, and Sokka, but Zuko hadn't heard anything about a high profile Fire Nation prisoner yet, and if Zhao had turned Sokka over to the Fire Lord, Zuko would have heard by now.

His uncle would have.

The Dragon of the West was still greatly respected, after all, and he had spies, even if the notion still boggled Zuko's mind sometimes. He slid his fingers along the water on the map, along shorelines, and his lips pressed together.

"You think to chase General Zhao," Iroh murmured, and Zuko's hand stilled for a heartbeat before he nodded once. A single sharp move, and his men seemed even more scared now than they were before.

"We barely got out of there," the helmsman said finally, apparently unable to stand it. Zuko's eyes slid off the map to look at the man, and he could feel the air heating up around him.

"What?" he demanded, and no one had a chance to answer before he continued with, "What does that _matter_? We have to go back."

"I think we all want to know why. The Avatar isn't there now, and to ask us to go back risks all our lives. Risks your life. Your honored uncle's." Lieutenant Jee's voice was low, but it wasn't nearly as calm as he wanted it to be. It was a tell that Zuko had exploited in more sparring matches than he ever wanted to admit to. He turned and looked at the man, lifting his chin.

It was a move he'd learned from Water Tribe kids, apparently.

"We're not leaving Sokka with Zhao," Zuko growled, and those words were met with a long silence. This one had a different texture from the fear earlier though; it had an oddly warm and resigned feel to it, and finally, Jee nodded to him.

"He would have needed to deposit the prisoners," Jee said.

"Not Boiling Rock," Iroh replied. "He only had the sages and Sokka, and he hasn't handed Sokka over to anyone yet."

"We would have heard," Zuko agreed, looking back at the map again. He studied the ports nearest to the temple, and his frown deepened. "Maybe he met a transport—"

"Zhao always personally delivers them," Jee murmured. "He's a supremely prideful man."

"And without any honor to back it up." Iroh nodded slowly, and then he pointed to the map. They fell into an easy rhythm, even as the helmsman slowly turned the ship to take it from the Earth Kingdom harbor. No matter which one they picked, they had a little while to debate and argue it.

Long enough that by morning, they still hadn't reached a consensus yet, and it wasn't a problem yet. Zuko stood on the deck, staring out across the water, trying not to imagine what Sokka was likely going through. He could faintly hear people talking, voices he didn't recognize, and he glanced up toward the skies.

Through the clouds, he spotted the outline of that bison, and his teeth ground together all over again. So close, and yet...

And yet it didn't matter. Only one thing mattered, and it wasn't the Avatar.


	10. Abandoned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right! So thanks so much to [Iron](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron/pseuds/Iron) for betaing! Any mistakes in this chapter are definitely mine, and probably a result of editing after Iron reviewed the chapter. My open call for a beta for this fic is now officially closed, and since I have the rest of this story outlined, hopefully it will be much smoother sailing from here on out. I do plan on a total of twenty-four chapters for this story, and that will take us through the end of season one. Now, I'm not too sure if I'm going to continue completely rewriting the series— that's an awful lot of words— but rest assured, I will at least take us all the way through the end of season one. The North Pole should be fun!
> 
> Also, many, _many_ thanks to [kooksthekook](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kooksthekook/pseuds/kooksthekook) for the gorgeous [fanart](http://innoculata.tumblr.com/post/107103804331/the-silk-represents-bravery-gold-for-honour)! I cannot even begin to tell you how wonderful this is, or how flattered I am that my work inspired you so! You make me want to break out my own pencils and sketch some.

Leaving the ship meant a three-guard escort, apparently, and for possibly the first time in his life, Sokka wished he were still with Zuko. At least his escort then— the few times he was off the ship anyway— had been Iroh, who laughed and joked and made the whole thing enjoyable, or Jee, who managed to be warm even as he was all business. The guards Zhao sent with him, however, were nothing like Zuko's men.

Sokka bought the basket of apples just to have an excuse to keep his hands busy, to keep the guards from reaching for him and moving him around the other people in the market place. He didn't even want to eat the apples. He was far more intrigued with the jerky that a vendor a few stalls down was selling, but he was fairly sure, given what little he'd seen of the other women in the marketplace, that Fire Nation women were supposed to be delicate. And actually enjoying the jerky would probably only garner him attention in the ways he didn't need right now. He sighed and brushed his fingers over the apples— wasn't there an Earth Kingdom story that went along with a girl and a basket of apples?— and moved through the marketplace.

It was dry, dead and dry and there was a huge statue of the Fire Lord that constantly spat fire. Sokka wasn't sure how a marketplace so full of people managed to be so damned dead. Maybe it was the lack of any color but red and black around him. Not a single growing anything. He glanced down at the apples, and he swallowed before he finally fished one out.

Bright red against his skin, but it was a warmer red than the fire, less... destructive. It looked alive, at least. He turned toward his guards, and he smiled as he held it out to the first one.

"I didn't catch your name," he said, trying to remember how Katara was with new people she wanted to charm. "But would you like one? There's far too many for me to eat here."

He got all three names— Delun, Enlai, and Liang— in exchange for three of his apples, and he looked back across the marketplace. Even the breeze felt oddly dry here, considering that they were still right there by the water.

A group of children playing by one of the stalls drew his attention, and had they not been dressed in red and black, they could have been children in just about any nation. Sokka smiled just a little to himself, and then Enlai swatted at the one girl who had come too close.

"Hey," he snapped sharply, and all three guards went still. He swallowed, but he'd already committed this far, hadn't he? "Stop it," he added, and he dropped down to the girl, brushed her hair back from her face, and smiled as warmly as he could manage before he gave her an apple too. "Here," he murmured, "take this. Do you want two?"

She hesitated, looking up at him through wide eyes, and something in his chest twisted as he spotted the scar along her shoulder. It made him think of Zuko's scar, and what kind of nation was this where people just had those everywhere?

When she nodded, he gave her a second apple, and he watched her go before he turned back to his guards.

Enlai was the one frowning at him, and he caught Sokka's arm with one hand and tugged him toward one of the clothing stores.

"Careful, Princess," he said, "begging children in the streets are thieves, especially this far from the Capital."

Sokka swallowed back his retort that all Fire Nation were thieves, and instead, he focused on the clothes in the store. He made Enlai carry the basket.

None of the clothes came in anything except red, black, or charcoal gray. The occasional yellow accent splashed across the other colors. He'd never been so aware of just how much color had worked its way into Zuko's ship. His fingers slid down the first white dress he found. Zuko had responded well to the white dress, and while Jee had long since explained the connotation for the Fire Nation, all Sokka could see when he looked at it was snow and ice and death. Tense and serious faces.

Everything he'd long since associated with home.

He picked out two white dresses, since Zhao had told him to buy whatever he liked, and after a long consideration, he added a yellow one. Then he headed out to find a store with fabric instead of pre-made clothes, leaving Liang to handle the payment for the dresses he'd picked.

He blew out a very slight sigh of relief when he found somewhere to buy fabric. It came in more colors and shades than anything else here.

It was pure luck that he sewed at all, and he was fairly certain that he could mimic some of the forms and lines he'd seen in Earth Kingdom clothes. At the same time, he had to be careful, had to keep his status in mind at all time. What made him valuable was that he _wasn't_ Fire Nation or Earth Kingdom. He'd need to figure out some way to imply Water Tribe in his clothes. Zhao needed to look at him and see whatever value he thought Sokka could bring him.

He needed to look at Sokka and see the princess that everyone kept calling him.

He was inspecting a bolt of blue silk when Zhao rounded the corner and spotted him. Sokka kept his eyes down until Zhao was too close to ignore, and then he lifted his head with a warm smile.

"What do you think of this one, General?"

Zhao looked the fabric over before he nodded, reaching out so that his fingers were just shy of Sokka's on the fabric. "Very Water Tribe," he said. They both wanted Sokka to look exotic then. Sokka slid his hand down the fabric, trying to guess how much he'd need of it to make...well, anything. Zhao's hand dropped away. "Princess, I doubt we have time to wait for them to make you something from it."

"Of course. Your work keeps you busy," Sokka murmured. "What if I purchase some so that I would have something to do on the ship?"

Zhao's eyes widened, and he looked back at it with renewed interest. Apparently the thought of giving Sokka something to do to keep him in his quarters appealed to him. Sokka's eyes narrowed.

Was he planning on letting Sokka wander the ship then?

"Yes. Get some of that. I've found you a maid to help you with your..." A hand wave supplied the rest of that sentence instead of words, and Sokka was tempted to press, to see just what sort of 'things' Zhao thought he needed a maid for. He didn't press, however. He just smiled, and he motioned the shopkeeper over to take his request for several yards of the silk.

Before he let her go, he also decided to get some of the green and a bit of the yellow, just to have a variety to work on. Zhao watched him with a furrowed brow, and Sokka smiled as he nodded and finally looked back at the general.

"A maid, that'll be nice. I must admit, I might not know what to do with a maid." Sokka shrugged, and he spread his hands. "I have not exactly been in much position for one, you understand."

A slight snort that Zhao tried to muffle— more because it was considered rude by Fire Nation standards, Sokka was sure— and then Zhao shook his head. "No, I acquired her to assist you in your... clothes and such. I understand that there's quite the art to a lady's dress."

Something cold washed through him, but Sokka dropped his eyes back down to the silks he'd been looking at before he shrugged. "Sometimes, certainly. Do you plan on standing on such ceremony with me, General?" It was the best he could do on such short notice. He had no idea what a lady's dress truly entailed in the Fire Nation, but he imagined that the things he'd been planning to sew were suddenly out. He swallowed. "I have been...enjoying our time together," he said, and that was bold. Overly so, even.

Zhao was angling for a betrothal, Sokka had decided before they docked. It was obvious in both how Zhao treated him, how he flaunted the Water Tribe Princess in front of others, and in the choice of gifts he'd already given Sokka to keep him quiet on the ship. Unless, of course, the only literature the Fire Nation had featured captive royalty and captive nobles saving their people by realizing the glory and splendor of the Fire Nation.

Who knew with these people?

Zhao's hand reached out to brush against his, and Sokka didn't let himself go still. Instead, he let his own hand drop down to brush against the crook of Zhao's elbow, and Zhao led him out of the store after signing for the purchases. Sokka's eyes narrowed. Zhao hadn't flinched over the total. So perhaps he had more money than Sokka had originally guessed.

It was another piece in their Pai Sho game.

Zhao led him back toward the ship, and Sokka smiled before he finally made his quiet excuses, asking for a few minutes to lie down. Unlike on Zuko's ship, Zhao did not keep him in the room across the hall. Sokka couldn't have explained just how relieved that made him, because any more similarities might have sent him right off the edge of the ship in sheer frustration. His room was down the hall, several doors down, and Sokka pulled the door shut behind him with a grateful sigh.

Then his eyes opened, and a startled squeak escaped him at the young woman waiting in there for him. She looked up when the door had opened, and she smiled. It was a practiced smile, one designed to make her less noticeable. Sokka knew that because he'd been practicing that exact same smile in the mirror here.

"H-hi," he managed after a second, and he swallowed before he dropped his eyes and headed across the room to the window seat. A maid, Zhao had said, but Sokka thought he'd get longer before he had to share space with her. What was he even going to do? It wasn't as though he could actually hide himself from her—

He blinked at the cup of steaming tea suddenly in his face, and he looked up to meet her dark eyes. She had the same smile on as she tipped her head, and her dark hair fell forward over her shoulder.

"Good afternoon, Princess," she said softly. Her voice was delicate. Wind chimes. Sokka found himself smiling just a little as he took the cup from her, careful to keep his hand flat under it while he steadied it with his fingertips.

"Good afternoon," he murmured. "I wasn't expecting you so quickly."

"The General believed you might have need now that he has obtained you a proper wardrobe." She sat carefully on the seat beside him, and Sokka's brow furrowed.

" _He_ obtained me a proper wardrobe? I found a few things in the market—"

"Oh, no, Princess. The market was a diversion. Something to keep you entertained." The girl's smile widened slightly, the beginnings of something more real, and Sokka didn't let himself look away. "He had proper clothes delivered from some of the noble homes. Mostly second-hand, of course, but only because there was no time to have things properly made."

Sokka sipped his tea, and he looked back out the window. "I can sew a few things," he said. "Have you a pattern for what is considered a necessary wardrobe?"

She tipped her head, and the decorative pin in her hair chimed softly. "No, Princess. I'm afraid not. But I can also sew, and between the two of us, we can likely figure something out. Do all Water Tribe princesses sew?"

Sokka went still for that question, innocent though it might have been. It was dangerous territory, and while he had answers prepared now for most of the questions he thought himself likely to get, he wasn't sure how practiced his response needed to be around her. She'd been chosen by Zhao, after all, and she probably reported back to him. Sokka shrugged, and he sipped his tea once more. "I wouldn't know. It isn't as though there are very many of us. Besides, my circumstances have been unusual, even for our people."

She nodded, and she followed his gaze out the window. He saw her head move out of the corner of his eye. For a long moment, they were both quiet, just breathing and feeling the ship around them, and then she asked, her voice very low, "Are all Water Tribe princesses boys?"

He jerked for that, and it wasn't until her hand brushed against his that he realized he was clutching the tea cup so tightly that it was a miracle the thing hadn't shattered. Not much of the tea had splashed when he had spun to look at her at least. His skirts could be salvaged. "W-Why would you ask such a thing?" he said, and his voice was too sharp, he'd given too much away—

"Because I don't think anyone else has noticed," she replied, and she took a handful of her own skirts to dab at the tea on his. His breath caught in his throat, and she leaned in a little closer. "You must understand, Zhao has no loyalty from me," she whispered. "He has yet to earn it."

"And me? Have I earned anything from you?" Sokka replied, and he didn't pull away from her. They were barely inches from one another now, and her hand still pressed the soft fabric of her skirt against his.

She swallowed thickly— he watched her throat work on the motion— and then she finally dropped her eyes to focus on blotting the tea stains. "No," she said, "but you... you have a kindness that most lack. I saw what you did with your apples in the market." She brushed her hands around his on the tea cup. "You didn't have to give any to that girl." She smiled, and this one was not practiced at all. Sokka wasn't even sure she realized she was doing it. "You would have given her anything you had when all she wanted for was a few coins."

"I didn't have any coins," Sokka replied. And her smile widened.

"I know," she replied. "And now we will see if we can't keep your secret a little longer, yes, Princess?"

"I don't even know your name," Sokka protested faintly.

"Meili." She reached up and brushed her fingers against his hair, and she giggled slightly. "We'll have to figure out something for your hair. It's definitely the least... royal thing about you."

Sokka snorted a laugh, and he leaned back, placed his cup on the window seat, and reached up to pull his hair back how it was supposed to be kept. It was longer now, growing out, and while it no longer itched, he was definitely more aware of it. The tail felt weird, considering how long it had been since he'd worn it that way.

"Warrior Wolf's Tail," he said, and she nodded before he let go of his hair and let it fall back around his face. "It's a boy's hair cut in the Water Tribe. A warrior's."

She nodded again, and then she reached up and combed her fingers through it, humming a tuneless, thoughtful note. "We can work with this. A few hairpieces or a longer headdress, and no one will even notice how short your hair is. Much easier to maintain than a wig at sea."

"I'll need practice moving in them," Sokka said quickly, "and I need... I don't know. Coaching. On looking like a woman."

"Trust me, you're doing fine. No one has noticed. But we can practice. After all, they expect you to spend your time in here doing embroidery or sewing or reading. The only times they'll expect you anywhere is at meals."

"And evenings with the General," Sokka murmured. "We play Pai Sho."

"I'll be with you for those from now on," Meili promised. "You're a lady. You shouldn't be seen alone with him."

"You can't protect me from him."

"No," she agreed lowly. "But I can protect your name. And that's what you're surviving on, isn't it?"


	11. Plans

It was three days of travel before Zuko couldn't stand it any longer. He stalked out on the deck and glared up at the sky, trying to figure out... he could hear them talking, but he hadn't exactly had the best of luck dragging their attention down to him. They seemed perfectly content up there, playing and whispering and doing whatever it was they were doing, following him blindly into the Fire Nation waters. No blockade this time, but only because Zhao was distracted, Zuko was sure.

He tapped his foot, still watching the bison, and finally, when they got directly over him, he shot up a few blasts of flame. The first four burned out long before they got near the bison, but by the fifth one, Zuko was angry enough that it shot right past them and kept going. He heard startled yelps, and finally, the bison dropped down enough for the Water Tribe girl to lean over and shout, "What are you _thinking_?!"

He snorted at her, and he raised a fist to shake as he shouted back, "I want to talk to him!"

There was a long moment of quiet, and the Water Tribe girl vanished back onto the bison. Finally, after a round of hurried whispers, the Bison dropped just a little lower, and a girl in a green dress dropped off. She landed on the deck in a crouch, and for a second, Zuko couldn't breathe.

It was the same uniform Sokka had been wearing when Zuko had caught him, same makeup and same fan, and he hadn't expected it to hurt so much to see her in it. She straightened up slowly, shifted her weight to one foot, and brandished her fan. He had no interest in tangling with her, but automatically, he fell into his own stance, ready to defend if he needed to. He hated fighting unarmed against weapons like that. It was always better to be able to keep that distance if possible.

"If you so much as touch him," she said lowly, and her voice was absolutely nothing like Sokka's. It was too light, too high. Somehow, that made it easier to bear, and he gritted his teeth at the thought.

"If I touch him, it will be because I need to talk to him and he keeps darting _away_ —"

The blast of wind shoved them both back, and there he was, small and lithe and he wore a too wide smile that nearly matched Sokka's. "Okay, guys," he said calmly, "we're working together this round, remember?"

The girl in green scowled, and Zuko lifted his chin just enough to look down his nose at her. "She started it," he muttered, and then he focused on the Avatar. So close, just right there, and why was Zuko even doing this? He couldn't work with the Avatar, couldn't let himself give everything up like this. He needed to catch him, right now, just like this—

His fingers twitched, and the fan glinted in the sunlight. It wasn't what stopped him though. What stopped him was the memory of Sokka's face as he'd told stories about the Avatar. As he'd laughed and joked with the soldiers. With Iroh.

Never with Zuko, of course, but Zuko had listened to the stories all the same. He'd...liked them, even. How could he not when Sokka told them so well, so enthusiastically?

He let his arms fall to his sides and turned to face the child. Boy. How was he so young?

"We need to discuss a plan," he finally said.

"You don't strike me as a plan sort of guy," the Avatar said, and his grin widened. "Sokka rub off on you? He does that. He likes his plans."

_'What next, Zuko?'_

Zuko frowned faintly, and he glanced away before he nodded. "Yes. He does. Let's hope he's been running a good one or we won't be retrieving him from Zhao."

"Who is this guy anyway?" The Avatar tipped his head, and a lemur darted out of his clothes to wrap around his shoulders. Zuko tried to pretend he hadn't noticed that. The Avatar tapped his chin with a finger. "Zhao... Zhao..."

"General Zhao. He's the man from the temple," Zuko supplied, not willing to wait for the Avatar to remember. No matter how young he looked, he was over a hundred years old. He probably had some memory problems. Iroh did, after all. "He's not an agreeable man."

"That's the truth," the girl in green said, and she sighed as she walked across the deck and put herself between Zuko and the Avatar.

"Suki," the Avatar grumbled, and he shook his head. "Stop it. Let's start with real introductions if we're going to work together."

Zuko wasn't sure he wanted real introductions. He glanced up at the bison, spotted the Water Tribe girl slowly trying to inch over the side, and he paled. "Stop it, would you?" he shouted. "You're going to fall!"

The last thing he needed was for Sokka's sister to hit the deck of his ship and break something.

"Appa!" the Avatar yelled just behind him, and the bison dropped down onto the deck of the ship, making the metal groan under him. Zuko grabbed a railing to keep from hitting the floor himself, and he scowled all over again.

Working with them was going to be a nightmare.

* * *

Most of his days were spent in the room, sewing and practicing both walking and manners, anything to keep him occupied. The meals weren't so bad either, mostly quiet since Zhao stood on every ceremony he could find to make himself feel more important. Little as Sokka liked that part of him, it made the day easier, put a lot less work on him. All he had to do was smile and be perfectly pleasant and witty on command. He'd never had as much respect for the female leads in all the novels he'd read as he did now, and he made a note to apologize to both Katara and Suki the first chance he got.

He'd never realized that being a woman took so damn much work.

He pricked his fingers more times than he cared to count, working on the clothes that he and Meili had finally agreed to sew together, but everything was coming along nicely. Zhao seemed to approve whenever Sokka dressed as formally as possible, so he made a point of layering the dresses he'd been given as best he could. Meili was the one who came in behind him and arranged them, tied his sashes and adjusted the layers to drape more prettily, to make him look more feminine. Perhaps the most impressive thing she brought with her though was the small black kit of makeup. It wasn't like his warpaint. It wasn't even like the makeup that Suki had applied to his face. Meili's makeup was all translucent powders and finishes and bright pigments that she used as sparingly as possible.

He hadn't recognized himself the first time she'd made him up, and he'd spent almost ten minutes just looking in the mirror, making every ridiculous face he could think of to prove to himself that the girl in the glass was, well, _him_. The hairpieces had helped with making him even more of a girl, and for the most part, Meili kept his hair swept back and close to his skull, jingling hairpieces and headdresses cascading down his back and to the side. Every step he made, every turn of his head, every breath he took was punctuated by the light bell-tones of the pieces. The strangest part was how quickly he'd gotten used to that.

He wore narrow, slim pieces of fabric over his feet instead of boots, and they were purposely matched as closely as they could get them to the outermost layer. His feet were clunky, too big to be feminine, and the last thing they wanted was anything that might draw attention to them. They made sure all of his dresses swept the floor.

Just in case, he packed their bags every morning once they'd made him up for the day, and again every night once Meili had run him through her set of lotions and powders for his face. He wasn't sure his skin had ever glowed like it did now, and he wondered if he could get recipes for the stuff from her for Katara. He was fairly sure that his sister would have liked a set of this magic.

('Just in case,' he told himself, but he knew better. Aang and Katara and Suki had to get Aang to the north pole, and Zuko wouldn't, couldn't, come for him. Sokka was on his own now, possibly more so than the first time he'd been captured. At least that time, it had been just him and he hadn't been responsible for another person. He had no way to get both himself and Meili out of this.)

He spent most of his time trying not to draw too much attention, and when he went to Zhao's room for the evening, Meili brought her sewing with them. She always made sure that one of the books Zhao had given Sokka was tucked into her basket, and she moved the bookmark a few pages every day. Sokka wasn't reading them, but Zhao liked to see it, and it kept the general in a relatively good mood.

All things considered, Sokka was fairly sure that he lived and died on Zhao's good mood.

He improved at Pai Sho in leaps and bounds, and he was careful to throw games, to keep the score as even as he could between them. Zhao played well, better than Sokka would have guessed, but he was no Iroh. Sokka had rapidly decided that no one was like Iroh when it came to Pai Sho.

"You're distracted tonight, Princess," Zhao murmured, and Sokka's attention snapped back to the board. He looked from it up to Zhao, and he smiled as he dropped his eyes back down.

"I think all the excitement took more of a toll on me than I expected," he replied softly. "I haven't ever seen firebenders duel quite so fiercely before today." His stomach was still churning from sitting there watching, but this wasn't Zuko's ship. Zhao wasn't Zuko. The general would have been extremely put out if Sokka had left during his match. So instead, Sokka had sat right there, and Meili's hand had brushed lightly against his shoulder. He'd only taken a heartbeat before he reached up and wrapped his hand around hers. Girls could get away with that sort of thing, after all, and Zhao always seemed pleased that Sokka liked Meili.

Sokka still hadn't quite figured out their thing yet, given that Zhao seemed to trust her even while Meili seemed only to want to rip his throat out.

"The prince didn't let you watch?" Zhao asked, and Sokka shrugged before he leaned forward to move a piece.

"I watched a few. They were not so..." He took a moment, let Zhao's eyes come up to his face, and then he smiled as he finished with, "Intriguing. You duel very aggressively."

And he'd lost to Zuko. Sokka knew that much, even if he didn't know why they'd been dueling in the first place.

"It is the nature of firebending," Zhao replied. "Fire uses everything as fuel. Eats it alive if it must."

"I can tell." Sokka watched Zhao move a piece on the board, and he tilted his head just to make the hairpiece jingle. His hand came up to his chin, fingers brushing against his skin as he thought. He needed to throw this one, but carefully. "I imagine training to bend must be exhilarating for you firebenders."

Zhao grinned, sharp and wide and slow, and Sokka's breath caught before he dropped his eyes again.

Too much. That had been too heavy handed, too encouraging, and he was going to have to dial it back without making it obvious. Zhao was definitely fishing for the betrothal, and while Sokka would normally have run screaming from such a thought, he'd realized that Zhao was very close to the Fire Lord. He received personal orders, after all, and from what Sokka could piece together, he spent a lot of time in the palace when he wasn't chasing Zuko and the Avatar.

If Sokka married him, he'd get access to the palace. And if he got access to the palace, well...

The Fire Lord was rarely anywhere else.

But of course, while the marriage itself wouldn't be hard to go through with, Sokka was fairly sure he'd fail the marriage night itself. Unless they could perhaps drug Zhao with something..? He moved another piece on the board, and he kept his attention down.

He'd need to ask Meili if she knew of anything that would be useful.

* * *

In the end, it was Iroh who came up with their plan. The Avatar— Aang, and it was strange calling him that, even if it was exactly what Sokka had always called him in his stories— was not the best at plans, and the Water Tribe girl— Katara— spent far more of her time glaring at Zuko than contributing. The girl in green— Suki, and he wasn't sure why he was bothering to try to remember their names— was actually helpful, but only in the sense that she was obviously the one who had planned the attacks of the girls on Kyoshi island. She wasn't used to trying to organize such a small force, so few people who could actually help.

But Uncle Iroh was used to organizing all sorts of groups, and he took stock of their abilities in a matter of moments before he nodded and they all retired to the bridge. The bison rolled over to sun its belly on the deck of his ship, and the lemur tore across the bridge, cheerfully stealing anything that it deemed even remotely edible. Zuko gritted his teeth and tried his best to ignore the thing as they gathered around the map in the middle of the room. Lieutenant Jee took one look at their group, opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head and left them to it. Zuko wished he could have gone with him. It would have been much preferable to just leave and wait and do whatever Iroh told him he needed to do later.

He just couldn't leave Uncle Iroh alone with them. For all their naivete and innocence, Zuko didn't trust them. They should have come after Sokka instead of just leaving him with Zuko. Why hadn't they? Why hadn't they snatched him when they'd run from the temple?

(Why hadn't _he_?)

He leaned over the map, and they talked it all over again, hashing out locations and habits, and finally, Zuko shook his head. "He'd have dropped off his prisoners here, at the Fire Fountain City. There's no other logical place to go."

Iroh nodded, stroking his beard as he considered it, and he used his fingers to walk across the map, clearly measuring distance as he did. "Then by now, he's likely trying to double around here to pick up our trail again. Here or here." He pointed out a couple of places, and Zuko studied them for a long moment.

It was Aang who spoke up then, who flipped his stick over his shoulders and beamed at them. "I'll scout. I can get there and back and we can see for sure where he's going. Then we'll know where to go."

He didn't wait for any kind of confirmation before he took off, leaping blindly from the window in the bridge to catch a breeze and go. Zuko watched him leave, and he sighed before he looked back over at the girls.

It was Suki who smiled and shrugged. "He does it all the time. He'll be back. We might as well sit tight until then."

Zuko scowled as he turned on his heel and left the room. He didn't want to sit there and wait with those girls until the Avatar came back. He wanted to be there now, to reassure himself that Zhao hadn't hurt Sokka or done who knew what to him. He wanted... He wanted all of this over.

He stopped in the hallway, and he glanced across at the door that he hadn't opened since Sokka had ended up missing. It was very slightly ajar, and he pushed it closed only for it to slide just that little bit open again. His brow furrowed, and after a moment of investigation, he pressed his fingers against a small square of silk, stiff but stuck to the latch on the door.

So that was how Sokka had gotten out. He smiled faintly at the cleverness, at the fact that even while they were chasing after Iroh and the Avatar, Sokka must have gathered something while they were out to soak the silk in. Something to keep it stuck to the door to keep it from being locked. He left the silk where it was, and he pulled open the door to just look in the room. It was soft, silks and dresses everywhere, and for a long moment, Zuko just stood there. Looking.

Then he shut the door and crossed the room and headed to his own bed. He dropped down to sit, his head heavy in his hands as he breathed.

He jerked his head up when the door opened, relaxing slightly when he realized it was just his uncle.

"I am proud of you for this, Prince Zuko," Iroh murmured, and the words twisted hard in Zuko's chest. They hurt in nearly the same way that the memory of Sokka did. Zuko jerked his gaze down, made a low noise, and shook his head. Iroh's hand brushed against the fall of his ponytail, and Zuko closed his eyes. "It isn't easy, working with your enemy, but I think you are doing the right thing here."

"Father would disown—" But no, he'd already done that, hadn't he? Zuko jerked back from Iroh's hand, and he pushed himself up to pace. It was easier to think when he was moving, especially when he could feel his skin starting to heat up, feel the air around him trembling and vibrating. "It's wrong. I shouldn't be doing this. Any of it."

"But no one deserves to be left with General Zhao," Iroh said, and Zuko stilled, sighed, and nodded.

"No one," he agreed lowly. He moved then, pulling the dao off the wall. Sokka had been the last person to use one of those, and how was it that everything on his ship made him think of the Water Tribe boy? After just a moment, he grabbed the mask too.

Iroh watched him, and Zuko was relieved to see him nod. It was the right call then, no matter how wrong it felt. No, that wasn't right. It wasn't that it felt wrong that was the problem. It was that it _didn't_.

He didn't know how long he and Iroh stayed down there, with Zuko's fingers running over the mask, but he stiffened when he heard something unusual in the ship, something...

"The Avatar is back, Uncle," he said lowly, and Iroh sighed as he finally got up.

"Well then. Let us see where the great General has decided to go, yes?"

Zuko watched him leave, and he glanced back down at the mask for another heartbeat before he started to the chest of clothes. Iroh liked collecting clothes, so it wasn't even that difficult to find something that didn't look like the Fire Nation to wear. He changed, tightened the belt to hold on the swords on his back, and tied the mask around his face. He pushed it up so that it would sit there and he drew a breath.

Just as well, wasn't it? Blue mask and everything to rescue a Water Tribe boy. Girl. Princess.

His lips quirked in a faint smile, and he headed up to the bridge again.

They finally ended up at the dock Aang had scouted, with Katara and Aang preparing some kind of distraction and Suki and Zuko at the inn.

The inn that Zhao had picked was extravagant, but then again, Zuko figured that was normal for him. Zhao was the sort, as Uncle Iroh had pointed out. He stayed in the greenery, as still as he could manage, and his breath caught as he watched the Fire Nation soldiers unloading the ship. He could see a pair of girls being escorted down the gangway by Zhao himself, and his eyes narrowed. He wasn't even sure...

Was that Sokka?

It had always been plain when Sokka was with him that Sokka wasn't actually a girl, no matter how he was dressed. But like that...

He was dressed as a noblewoman, at least four layers visible and once Zuko got closer, he was fairly sure he'd be able to count even more. Seven maybe. That was as extravagant as the inn, more so even. Only royalty wore so many layers. He could remember Azula complaining of it when they were younger, before she'd started showing her bending abilities.

Sokka's hair was long enough to be in a low roll around the back of his head, and there was a veritable waterfall of a hairpiece pinned to his head, shimmering and jingling with every movement. For all that it was very Fire Nation, however, the colors and motifs were nothing like what Zuko had grown up seeing in court. It was all exotic blues and pale grays and purples, and it all suited his coloring perfectly. That had to be the girl standing behind him. She was dressed far more plainly, but everything was in excellent repair. A maid? Zhao had gotten him a maid?

Did he think Sokka was... what, a princess? A real princess?

Zuko's eyes widened as he thought about it. Zhao had found him all tied up for his own safety on Zuko's boat. Hell, he probably thought that Zuko had made some kind of arrangements with the Water Tribe, possibly for a bid to get his place as heir back. He gasped slightly, and a hand touched his shoulder. He jerked, spun around, and there was Suki, one finger up to her lips.

Then she leaned forward just past him, studying the same scene he was, and asked softly, "Is that really him?"

Zuko nodded once, sharply, and he was suddenly grateful for the mask he was wearing. It meant she couldn't see how shaken he was. It meant he had a minute to get himself back under control before he answered, "Zhao must think him some kind of princess. Someone important."

"That's... probably safest, but not for long," Suki mused, and Zuko frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"If he thinks Sokka has value because of his blood, the most logical thing to do is ransom or marriage." Suki tipped her head, looking at him, and she shrugged. "And there's no Southern Water Tribe to ransom anymore."

Zuko's hand tightened on his sword's hilt. Suki's fingers caught in his sleeve, holding him still.

"Sokka's smart. He's playing him. He'll be fine for another hour or two, Zuko."

Zuko drew a breath, gave her a single sharp nod, and looked back toward the ship. The entire party was inside the inn. Planning on spending the night, and suddenly, the extravagant inn made sense. Zhao was _courting_ Sokka.

"We have him," Suki breathed. "He's fine. Aang's going to distract them, and then we'll—"

"I know the plan," Zuko said, cutting her off. He glanced back toward the gate where Aang would be making his appearance any moment. They'd wanted to give them enough time to unload, to get Sokka secured inside so that when Zhao and the soldiers rushed out, he'd be as alone as they could get him.

Zuko just had to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Iron for betaing! As always, any mistakes are likely from me mucking about with it once Iron was done. If you haven't already, you should absolutely check out [The Water Tribe Princess](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3129545), a fanfic written as a haibun about one possible way Zuko and Sokka's romance might be remembered! It's pretty amazing. ^^


	12. Rescue

By now, settling into the room at the inn was a habit. There was a regular rhythm to these things, and Sokka dropped himself to sit by the window as Meili instructed Liang with their bags. Liang didn't particularly need the instruction, but Meili liked bossing, and judging from the little smile that curved Liang's mouth, Sokka suspected that Liang liked being bossed. He settled their bags exactly where instructed, helped Meili rearrange a few things in the room to suit, and helped her hang the curtain she insisted was for her lady's modesty.

It was strange, how used to it all Sokka was. He waited until Liang was finally gone, and then he turned to Meili. "Did you get it?" he asked softly. The walls ashore weren't as thick as those on the boat, and he was always more than just a little paranoid.

He'd read enough Fire Nation novels now to know that inns came with a set of dangers that he'd never had to face on the boats, secret walls and hidden panels and who knew what else?

Meili looked over at him for a long moment, and then smiled as she tilted her head. "Of course," she said easily. "My lady need only ask for things she needs, yes? For any art she wishes to practice." She pulled the sword from the bag of poles she'd been carrying to help put up the curtain with. "Even should I not understand why she wishes to," she added, glancing at it with a little frown.

Sokka left the window to take the sword from her, and he pulled it a few inches from its scabbard. A relieved sigh blew past his lips as he realized it wasn't a dao. He'd had more instruction in just how badly he was suited to those already.

"No boomerangs then, I take it?"

"Ah, no. I couldn't find one, my lady," Meili answered, her smile fading. "But that... that should suffice, yes? You aren't... What are you thinking you're going to do with it?"

Sokka glanced toward the door, then pulled the sword entirely from its scabbard. A quick swing told him he'd probably be able to use it, and he nodded as he put it back. "I don't know yet. But I plan to have it just in case."

"I can't hide that among your clothes or anything," Meili protested faintly. "I mean, a nice dagger, sure, but a sword?"

"I don't need you to." Sokka held the sword in his hands a moment more, then headed over to the bed with it. They'd be bringing the second mattress for Meili at any moment, and he didn't want to be caught with it in his hands. He tucked it just under the edge of the bedding. It didn't have much of a guard, so it didn't stick out. He looked back at Meili. "I just want to be prepared."

Meili shrugged, and she went back to fussing with the curtain, the divider in the room that gave Sokka a place to change that was private. Not because Meili cared, but Sokka felt weird with her hands on his skin. It was uncomfortable. So he'd learned to dress himself in his own first layer or two, then she'd help with anything further. He leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling, and he jerked at the crash he heard outside.

His hand went to the sword he'd just put under the bed.

He met Meili's eyes, and she swallowed, and Sokka reached out to her, drawing her down onto the bed beside him. His hand tightened on the sword, and he pushed himself up as the door slid open.

He snatched the sword out of its scabbard, cursing for just a second that he didn't have a boomerang or a spear or really any sort of weapon except this sword, and he stared, brow furrowed, at the man in their room.

He was tall but narrow, and he had two swords on his back— matching swords, matching identical dao— and a blue mask that felt familiar...

Sokka's breath caught, and he stepped forward to hiss, "What are you _doing_?!"

* * *

Talking here wasn't a good plan. Luckily enough, Suki charged in just behind him, spotted Sokka and hissed back, "Rescue. Get your stuff!"

Sokka hesitated for only a second, looking between Suki and Zuko, and then he turned and pushed the girl behind him. "Bags. They're still packed," he said, and she blinked at him for a heartbeat before she nodded faintly. Sokka put the sword back in its scabbard, and he shouldered one of the bags that the girl brought.

"We're not taking her," Suki said quickly, and Zuko's eyes closed as he saw how Sokka bristled.

"We're not leaving her here," he snapped back, and Suki stepped forward.

"She's Fire Nation, Sokka, we can't—"

"Oh, no. You don't get to make that argument," Sokka fired back, and he didn't look over at Zuko, but there it was. If Zuko had been doubting, Sokka obviously knew exactly who he was. How did he—?

The mask, maybe. Zuko couldn't remember if it had been set anywhere that Sokka would have seen it, but the simple fact was, it didn't matter. Zuko just sighed and crossed the room and grabbed the girl by the arm. Suki threw her hands up, scowled, and then turned on her heel to lead them out.

Sokka was the one who looked over at Zuko, and for a moment, Zuko couldn't breathe. Not with Sokka so close to him, Sokka looking at him like that, like Zuko had finally done something right.

"Thank you," he whispered, and then he grabbed the girl's hand and hauled her out of Zuko's hold as he took off behind Suki. He still had the sword in one hand, and Zuko hesitated only a second before he followed them. He didn't let himself glance around the room. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to stand it if it looked like Sokka's room on the ship.

There was fire everywhere once they got out of the inn, and there was no way they were going to get out of this neatly. Zuko could hear Zhao shouting orders, and what surprised him was the small group of soldiers he sent back to the inn. He was as determined to hold Sokka as he was to chase the Avatar then. That didn't bode well.

A flutter of silk caught his attention from the men advancing on them, and Zuko's frown deepened as Sokka shucked off all but the inner layer of his clothes. The girl bent to pick them up, and Sokka shoved his bag in her hands instead. She hesitated, and then Suki grabbed her wrist and started running, fan flashing in the darkness.

Zuko watched Sokka draw the sword and fling the scabbard away, taking up the same stance that he'd used against Zuko on the ship. Zuko smiled just a little, and then blade hit blade and he couldn't let himself focus on Sokka, couldn't listen for the light jingling of his hairpiece. They fought together, and when Zuko figured they'd delayed long enough, he reached out and caught Sokka by the arm to pull him along. They ran a little ways, until Sokka stopped mid-step, caught by the someone shouting his name.

They both turned to look at one of the Fire Nation soldiers standing there, tip of his sword in the dirt, blood pooling under him. Zuko took a step forward, but Sokka caught him, and Zuko glanced down at him. He still looked like a girl here, standing here in a dress that wasn't considered decent for outerwear in any standard. Sokka crossed the short space to the soldier, took his sword, and then tore a piece of the fabric off the bottom of his dress.

"Listen to the doctor, Liang," he whispered as he knotted the fabric around his side. Then Zuko stepped in close, pulled Sokka back up to his feet, and they ran.

It wasn't far to the rendezvous point, but Zuko hesitated just before they got there, and he pulled Sokka in close. Sokka reached up before Zuko could say anything, ran his fingers down that mask, and muttered, "You're an idiot. You can't be seen moving against the Fire Nation."

Then he leaned forward, kissed the blue painted cheek of the mask, and pulled on Zuko's arm. "Not here. Don't talk yet."

Zuko sighed, and he nodded his agreement before he started pushing greenery out of the way to lead Sokka to the rendezvous point. He could hear the others already there, and he kept his attention on the woods around them. Listening for an ambush.

There was a cry the moment they hit the clearing, and Zuko stiffened until he realized that it was the Water Tribe girl rushing forward to wrap her arms around her brother. She was crying, and Sokka's smile was soft as he wrapped his arms around her in return.

"I'm fine, Katara," he murmured, and Zuko jerked his attention back to the others.

Suki leaned up against a tree, watching the whole business, and Aang stood as close to the siblings as he could get. His hand was white-knuckled from holding on so tightly to his glider. The lemur leaned over from Aang's shoulder to touch Sokka's hairpiece, and it started to tug only for Meili to reach up and take it from Aang.

"Going to mess up my work," she whispered to the lemur, and then she smiled as the lemur decided her hair was an acceptable substitute.

"They're going to follow," Sokka said suddenly, breaking the moment. He didn't let go of Katara, just loosened his hold a little, and Katara nodded.

"Right, we figured they would. That's okay though. We're going now."

Zuko pressed his lips together, and just as he started to turn, Sokka stopped him with a low, "But I can't go with you."

The silence on their group was so heavy that Zuko wondered if they'd ever be able to move again. Then it erupted into a burst of shouting—

"We're not leaving you here!"

"Zhao will find you—"

"What do you mean, you're staying?"

And Sokka cleared his throat before he shook his head. "Not... No. I'm not staying here, with Zhao, but I can't travel with you guys. You have to get Aang to the North Pole, and I... Zhao is going to come after me."

"Why would he come after you?" Katara asked, frowning at her brother. She still hadn't stepped away, just reached up to brush her fingers against his hair. "What does he get from that?"

Sokka's smile was very slight, pained almost, and Zuko couldn't quite stop himself from moving in a little closer to him. "He thinks I can give him soldiers. He thinks..."

"He thinks Sokka and the prince have struck a bargain," the maid said, and Zuko stiffened for the words before he realized that she didn't know who he was. "He thinks that Prince Zuko has made an arrangement to use the... Well. The Water Tribe Princess's men to retake his throne."

"That's impossible," Katara argued, but her voice was soft. "We don't have any Water Tribe warriors. I mean, the only one we have left is Sokka."

"And you," Sokka countered. "But no, he doesn't realize that. He thinks I have an army, possibly at the North Pole, and that I've promised it to Zuko."

"Why would you promise it to Zuko?" Aang asked curiously, and this time, it was Suki who cleared her throat. Everyone looked over at her, and she shrugged.

"It's happened before. Earth Kingdom nobles pledging warriors to back a Fire Nation noble to overthrow the Fire Lord. It's never worked, but it has happened before. Maybe Zhao thinks that Zuko's desperate enough to try."

"More importantly," Sokka said with a sigh, "he knows that with the men he has as General, if he could get my warriors too, he'd have enough military force to actually succeed."

Everyone was quiet again as that soaked in.

"Then you'll come with me," Zuko said with a shrug. Everyone looked over at him then, the maid's brow furrowing as she frowned.

"I can't go with you either," Sokka protested. "Zhao is already going to be convinced I went back to you, and the last thing you need—"

"Like you said. Zhao will already assume you came back to me. Besides, if he thinks you're my betrothed," the maid gasped, and Zuko gave up on hiding his identity and pushed the mask up, "then if I don't have you, he'll suspect that there's something wrong."

"Why would he assume Sokka was going to marry you?" Aang asked, a frown on his face too. Zuko's lips twitched, and he snorted faintly before he shook his head.

"If he thinks Sokka is giving me warriors in an attempt to get me on the throne again, he knows it's the only thing I have to offer."

"He thinks you must have promised to spare the Water Tribe, and you'd be marrying me to cement that promise," Sokka muttered, and he sighed as he tipped his head back. "Just as well this is all in his head, you know. I'd never agree to that. Way too easy for you to weasel out of that kind of deal."

Zuko stiffened. "If we'd made a deal, I'd finish our deal, Sokka. I'm not some kind of honorless—"

Sokka smiled faintly at him, and he shook his head. "Never mind. No, it... Okay. So Aang, take Suki and Katara. Head North. You have to get there, okay? Zhao is..." He drew a breath, then closed his eyes for a moment. "He's insane. Completely caught up in his whole...everything. Just. Go."

Katara hesitated, reaching out for Sokka's hand again, and she stood there, studying him for longer than they really needed to spare. "You're really okay?" she whispered.

"I'm fine," he promised, and he leaned forward to brush a very soft kiss to her forehead. "Go. You need to be there as much as Aang does, remember? Take care of them, Suki. Remind them that bending doesn't fix everything!"

Suki nodded and she stepped forward to give Sokka a hug as well. Sokka's eyes closed as his arms wrapped around her, and Zuko looked away. He didn't mean to meet the Avatar's gaze, but he did, and the two of them nodded after a heartbeat.

"Protect him," Aang said. "You two are going to get the worst of it."

Zuko snorted faintly. "With Zhao thinking Sokka can deliver him the throne? You bet we are. Go."

Aang smiled, slow and wide and easy, and he hugged Sokka too before the three of them left. The lemur bounded after them, and Zuko sighed as he reached up to pull his mask down. The maid's expression caught his eyes though, and her lips parted faintly before she bent in half, a sharp and sudden formal bow. The motion made a lump swell in Zuko's throat, and he shook his head.

"We don't have time for that," he said, and he reached out to brush her shoulder. "Besides, I'm in disgrace, remember?"

"You're the _Prince_ ," she whispered. "My family has always preferred you as heir. I never thought..."

"I'm something. Prince might not be right word right now."

Sokka took one of the bags from the maid's hand, and he sighed. "Come on, Meili. You can bow to him and Iroh after we get back on the ship."

"The Dragon of the West really is with you then?" She smiled for that, and she fell into step behind them as Zuko straightened up his mask. "I knew he would support his nephew. He named you his heir, didn't he?"

Zuko reached back to take Sokka's hand, and he heard Sokka dropping the sword into the grass. Without a scabbard to keep it in, that was probably the best plan. "Doesn't matter," he said with a sigh. "Still in exile."

She must have heard something in his tone to tell her to drop it, because she didn't speak to him again. Instead, she turned her attention to Sokka's state of dress, muttering about the loss of those silks, how he'd completely ruined what he was still wearing. Zuko didn't bother to point out that had Sokka thought it useful, he probably would have stripped all the way down to his bare skin. A little smile quirked his mouth at the thought, and he blinked when Sokka's shoulder brushed his.

"You just like hearing me being scolded," Sokka muttered, and Zuko glanced over at him. There was no way Sokka could have seen the smile with Zuko wearing the mask. When had Sokka gotten so good at reading his body language? For that matter, when had Zuko learned that when Sokka stood there with laughter in his eyes and not on his lips, he was grieving?

Zuko made a very low noise of agreement, and he pulled Sokka along behind him. The ship wasn't that far, tucked away in one of the coves, and when they got there, Uncle Iroh was waiting for them. Zuko hesitated, and then he let go of Sokka's hand just there at the treeline. He nodded toward the ship, and Sokka studied him for a moment before he nodded in return.

No one needed to see a man in a blue mask returning to Zuko's ship. Not even— especially— his own men. What they didn't know, they couldn't be blamed for not telling. He stayed where he was as Sokka and Meili headed on up into the ship, and Iroh swept Sokka into a crushing hug of his own.

His eyes, however, stayed on the treeline, and Zuko felt oddly exposed. He slunk back into the shadows just a little more, and he listened to Iroh fussing over Sokka. The entire ship was awake, and it wasn't long before they were all on the deck. Zuko took advantage of it all to sneak aboard and steal away into his own room.

It was only a few minutes to change and stash his gear in the chest at the foot of his bed, and he put the dao back on the wall after he wiped them down. Then he stalked outside, and the entire group of soldiers parted the moment the door opened. Sokka glanced up at him, hairpiece chiming softly, and he smiled, soft and warmer than Zuko had expected. Meili bowed, just as deeply as she had in the forest, and Zuko headed down toward Sokka. He brushed his fingers against her shoulder in a careless motion, just something to indicate that she could stand, and then he held out his hand to Sokka.

He wasn't actually certain that Sokka was going to take it, but after a moment of holding his gaze, there was a warm weight in his hand. Those fingers curved around his own, and Sokka sank into a surprisingly nice curtsy.

"Welcome back," Zuko said lowly.

"Glad to be back," Sokka replied. Strange thing was, Zuko was half sure he meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to Iron for betaing! Any mistakes are probably a result of me mucking about with it after the betaing was done!


	13. Storms

"You've been practicing, Sokka!"

Sokka blinked as he looked up from the board, and he smiled before he shook his head and reached out to move one of his pieces. "I don't know why you'd say that," he protested. "I'm still losing."

"Ah, but you _recognize_ that you're losing," Iroh retorted, and he chuckled as Sokka placed the piece on the board. "Last time we played, you wouldn't have noticed that."

"Oh, believe me, I have practice at losing now," Sokka murmured, and he finally took his fingers off the piece so that Iroh could move. "Seemed like all I did with Zhao was lose on purpose just to keep his temper at bay."

"Yes, well, the General is particularly volatile, isn't he?"

Sokka glanced past Iroh and the Pai Sho board toward the window, toward the blue sky he could see there. He'd been on the boat for days again, and everything was different now. It was strange, how surreal it all was.

"And you're not paying much attention to this game now, I suspect," Iroh said lowly, and Sokka's attention snapped back to him. He grinned, blushed, and ducked his head a little. The hairpiece chimed when he moved.

"Not...really, no, sorry, Iroh. I just can't seem to focus much today." He reached up and flicked a piece of his hair from his eyes, and he looked up when Iroh moved to stand.

"Come on then. We'll walk the ship. The game will keep."

Sokka took his hand without a second thought, smoothing out his skirts with something that was very nearly second nature, and the two of them headed off the bridge and onto the deck. Zuko was nowhere to be seen, and Sokka wasn't entirely sure where he'd gone. He saw a lot more of Zuko these days, with the two of them stopping off in nearly every town and dock and port they could find. It was a game, playing coy and trying to lure Zhao into chasing them instead of the Avatar.

Sokka had never seen so many different cities in his life, and not a single one of them felt like home. Not that he was particularly sure _home_ would feel like home anymore. If anything, the room he shared with Meili felt more like home, with their things all arranged, a screen put up between their mattresses. It wasn't required; Sokka had more or less gotten used to her being there, but it made them both feel better. Reminded them of the roles they were playing.

He'd even gotten used to the dresses finally, to the daily makeup and hairpieces, and he realized that without his life depending on it so much, he could actually enjoy some of it. He liked getting to shop with Meili and Iroh— Zuko often stood as close to the door as possible and tried to look as though he were capable of enjoying himself— and he had more clothes now than he suspected the entire tribe had back home.

The deck was warm, and Sokka turned toward the sun, his eyes closing for a moment.

"Think Zhao has bitten yet?" he asked softly, and he didn't look over at Iroh. He wanted more of these moments, the quiet, the ease. He was going to miss those, once this was all over.

"Oh, I imagine hearing the stories of Prince Zuko courting the Water Tribe Princess are driving him quite mad by now," Iroh replied, and Sokka snorted faintly.

Courting. As though Zuko were capable of such a thing. As though Sokka would let him—

Sokka opened his eyes, glanced around them, and then leaned back against the railing. "Yeah. I figured. I mean, that's why we have me dressing the part every day," he murmured. He hadn't even really had to consider that. He was scared of being out of practice the next time they saw Zhao, scared of slipping up, of giving away the plot one day while they were on land and acting out their roles. It was just easier to stay the princess until this was all over. Over. He still wasn't sure he even knew when that would be. How would he know?

His lips pressed together.

He'd know because the Fire Lord would be dead and the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe would be safe. Aang would have mastered the elements and he'd be the Avatar for real.

Those were the goals weren't they?

Zuko still wasn't on the deck.

Sokka blew out a breath, and he smiled at Iroh before he waved a hand. "I don't know that I'm up to finishing the game right now. Apologies."

"I didn't think you would be," Iroh replied. "Would you like some tea instead? Your Meili could bring you some."

Sokka hesitated, and then he shook his head. "No, I think I'm just going to lay down. Rest some. We'll be docking soon, right?"

"Provided the storm doesn't break before we get there," Iroh said, and Sokka followed his gaze to a few black clouds way off in the distance. His brow furrowed.

"Do you think it will?"

"Clouds like that? Certainly," Iroh replied with a shrug. "It's only a question of when."

* * *

Zuko was still in his room, sitting at the table, staring at the package he'd picked up three ports ago. It was wrapped in plain brown paper, with a twine ribbon that was deceptively decorative. He hadn't decided yet if the smith had realized just who it was for or not, but given the bow, Zuko was more than willing to lean toward 'yes,' the man had guessed. He just wasn't entirely sure yet if he was up to handing it over.

Uncle Iroh had taught him a long time ago that gifts were only gifts if hand-delivered, or delivered with some kind of note provided that hand-delivering wasn't possible. And there was no way for Zuko to pretend that hand-delivering it wasn't possible. Not when—

His ears pricked, and his head came up as he heard the door across the hall from his own open. He'd never taken the silk off the lock, and Sokka had never asked or mentioned it. The two of them were just pretending that the door had never been locked in the first place, apparently. Zuko still hadn't told him that he'd had the lock removed a few days after Sokka was back on the shop. Zuko pushed himself up to his feet, hesitated, listening to the door close, and then opened his own door and studied Sokka's.

Plain and cold and nothing about it gave away the fact that Sokka spent more time in there laughing than he did anywhere else on the ship. He still had dinner with Zuko and Iroh, and Meili joined them these days, but aside from when they were on land...

Zuko crossed the hallway, and after a heartbeat, he lifted a hand and knocked. He heard someone shift inside the room, heard a low mutter, and when the door opened, Sokka was already mid-sentence.

"You know you don't have to knock, Mei—"

He cut off and went still when he spotted Zuko, and for a moment, Zuko nearly regretted it. He...liked hearing Sokka talk, liked hearing the stories he told Meili, liked hearing him laugh. It was the only reason he hadn't forced Meili to stay in one of the port cities they'd stopped at so far. She made Sokka laugh, and Zuko knew better than to think that Sokka might forgive him eventually.

Sokka must have been settling in his room for a while— a nap, maybe— because his hairpiece was missing, and he'd taken off the outermost layer of his dress.

Zuko's jaw tensed, and then he jerked his head back toward his own door.

"Come here," he said sharply, and when Sokka frowned at him, Zuko glanced up toward the ceiling, drew a breath, and added, "please. I... I have something for you."

Sokka's eyes widened, and he glanced back toward his room, clearly trying to decide whether or not he was going to pull on that outer layer of silk or put in his hairpiece again maybe. Then he committed and he stepped out of the room.

Zuko held his own door open for Sokka, and when the other boy went still just inside the threshold, Zuko leaned forward and said, "On the table."

The package was obvious on the table. Too big and unwieldy to hide anywhere, Zuko had kept it just under his mattress near the wall. The bow was a little smushed, the paper a little more crinkled than necessary, but overall, it didn't look too bad. Sokka lowered himself to kneel at the table, and he glanced back up at Zuko for just a second.

Without the hairpiece, a little of his hair slid free of the little twist Meili put it in. Zuko couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Sokka's hair fall across his eyes like that, and he dropped down to sit just beside him, reaching up to smooth the piece back from Sokka's face.

Sokka swallowed, looked back to the package, and tugged on the bow. "When did you even pick this up? I don't remember seeing it come onto the ship," he said, but Zuko was too busy watching his face to bother answering.

He'd answer after Sokka opened it and saw—

Sokka's lips parted on a low gasp, and he looked over at Zuko even as his fingers wrapped around the hilt of the jian. Zuko had been checking ports ever since Sokka had gotten back on the ship, trying to find something lighter than his own dao, trying to figure out just what sort of sword would _suit_ , considering that Sokka was obviously most comfortable with a spear or a boomerang.

He had a second part to the present, but for now, the sword seemed to be more than enough. Sokka licked his bottom lip, and he looked back down at the sword before he pulled it just a couple of inches from the scabbard.

Then he slid it back, and he set it across his lap, and he breathed, "Why?"

"I... understand," Zuko said, and he'd known that Sokka was going to demand words from him regarding this gift. It didn't make it any easier, didn't make him any better at stringing them together.

No amount of practicing had prepared him for the expression on Sokka's face. No amount of practicing had prepared him for how much he wanted to lean in and—

He focused on Sokka's hands instead of his mouth, on the way Sokka clutched the sword against him as though Zuko might change his mind any moment and take it back. A wry smile quirked Zuko's lips, and that made the words easier to find.

"Why you wear the dresses. Why you're doing this. I didn't at first." He shrugged, tipping his head, and he reached out to brush his fingers against the back of Sokka's hand, only to stop himself just shy of actually touching that skin. He drew his hand back. "I thought... Zhao could catch up to us any day. You need to practice with it."

Because everyone on board knew what Zhao wanted from Sokka, and in the Fire Nation, there were methods one could employ to force a betrothal. Sokka would have to be able to defend himself in a very physical sense if he wanted to get out of it alive.

"I have something else for you," Zuko started, but a hand on his stopped him. He swallowed, looking down at the curve of Sokka's hand and wrist and arm, skin dark against his, the curves not nearly small enough to be feminine.

Looking at just this, Zuko could remind himself that Sokka was a boy.

"I don't think I can take another gift just yet," Sokka murmured, and his voice was lower. Zuko drew a breath, and he looked over at Sokka finally, who had tilted his head. His hair brushed just past his chin, having escaped most of the twist. "I just... Not yet. This is enough. More than. It's more than enough."

Zuko watched Sokka glance back down to the sword, and then Sokka leaned forward and set it against the table. It clinked when the metal tip of the scabbard set against the wood. Sokka drew his hand back from it slowly.

"It won't vanish," Zuko started, and his own voice was steady, harsh and firm compared to Sokka's warmth, and he didn't know how to change it. Wasn't sure he could.

Then Sokka leaned in closer to him and Zuko lost his words all over again.

Sokka's mouth was warm against his own, and he shifted until he was practically half in Zuko's lap. Zuko's hands felt awkward and rough against the smooth silk of Sokka's dress, and he hesitated on actively touching Sokka back. Then Sokka started to pull away from the kiss, and Zuko chased him.

He'd been chasing him, hadn't he?

Sokka made a startled noise into his mouth, and Zuko's hands curved over Sokka's hips, pulling him in closer. He didn't feel like a girl, not like this, not when he was so close to Zuko that he could feel the heat coming off his skin. Not even the cool silk could keep it all tucked away. Zuko let Sokka's mouth slip away from his own just long enough for both of them to catch their breath.

"Thank you," Sokka managed, and Zuko shuddered for the words, his hold tightening.

"Tell me," he said slowly, "that it wasn't just _thanks_ that made you do that."

A small laugh burst out of Sokka, and Zuko couldn't move his eyes away. He'd never made Sokka laugh, even as slight as that one was.

"No," Sokka murmured, and he hesitated before he glanced away, toward the sword again. "No, it wasn't just thanks. But you know, giving me a sword like that... when did you even get it?"

Zuko finally dragged his eyes off Sokka, shrugged, and pushed himself up to his feet. He gathered up the paper and folded it to stow away. "Few stops ago. I wanted to make sure I didn't find something that suited better before I gave it to you."

"I never fought with a sword before."

Zuko raised an eyebrow as he folded his arms, and he leaned against the wall. "Not entirely true, is it?"

"Well, besides that. I mean, that wasn't even really a fight, was it? You disarmed me pretty quick." Sokka sighed, and he shrugged. "Hardly counts."

"You fight well. You're just not trained. Not for that. What do you use normally?" There was no resisting the curve of Sokka's neck then, and Zuko sighed as he went back to sit at the table. Sokka shifted slightly closer, looking up at him, and he reached out to touch the sword.

It was nice to know that Sokka at least appreciated the sword.

"Boomerang," Sokka said finally. "Or a spear, I guess, but that's more for fishing. Boomerangs are easier to fight with."

Zuko nodded. "That's what I thought. I mean, I thought I remembered you using a boomerang." He hesitated, then committed, and he pulled another package from under the edge of the table. This one was much smaller than the sword had been.

Sokka watched him move, eyes narrow, and Zuko ignored the thunder he could hear outside as he pushed the box across the table. Sokka didn't reach for it yet.

"Why the gifts? Just Zhao?"

Zuko frowned, and he shook his head slightly. "Like I said," he murmured softly, "I get it now. Why you're doing this. You're fighting for your people, same as I am."

Sokka's lips pressed together, and Zuko's frown deepened. What did Sokka know about his situation to make him look like that? Zuko had made absolutely certain that none of the guards on this ship knew, not enough to tell Sokka at least, because it was easier to travel with those who didn't look at him with the same infuriating pity that everyone eventually got. Everyone except Uncle Iroh, at least, who always simply looked at him and saw his own dead son. Zuko jerked his eyes away from Sokka, and he stood again, this time moving toward the door.

"Storm's starting," he said, and he was so focused on the thunder and the rain that he could hear that he somehow missed the whisper of silk that punctuated every move Sokka made.

Or maybe he'd grown too used to the soft chime of the hairpieces.

Either way, Sokka's arms wrapped around him from behind, and Zuko's breath rushed out in a soft gasp as Sokka pressed against him. Hugged him. When was the last time he'd let anyone hug him, let alone some Water Tribe boy?

(More importantly, when had Sokka become someone far more important to him than just 'some Water Tribe boy,' and why hadn't Zuko noticed?)

He held perfectly still, but Sokka didn't let go. Something in his chest twisted hard enough to make him gasp, and he reached down to press his hand against Sokka's. Soft. Warm.

His skin was softer than any of the fabrics they'd wrapped him in.

Sokka's mouth pressed against his shoulder, and Zuko glanced up toward the ceiling before he turned around. Sokka looked straight up at him, and Zuko was the one who leaned in and kissed him. It was a harder kiss this time, with all that pain in his chest and the nerves in his stomach. He could feel Sokka's hands trembling too, even as he wrapped his fingers around fistfuls of Zuko's uniform.

His own hand pushed into Sokka's hair, knocking it loose finally, and he turned his head just enough to part Sokka's lips and kiss him deeper. Sokka pressed closer to him, and Zuko, for just a moment, could forget nearly everything. Then lightning struck something on the ship— he could hear everyone shouting— and he pulled away from Sokka with a low swear.

"Go into your room," he said sharply, and Sokka only hesitated a heartbeat before he nodded. He bent down to pick up his sword, and when he glanced at the other package, Zuko nodded. "Take it with you. I'll make sure Meili gets in the room with you, if she isn't already. This is going to be a bad one."

Sokka nodded, took his package and his sword, and headed across the hall. He stopped with one hand on his door, and then he looked back at Zuko.

"You could take the lock off, you know," he said.

Zuko snorted faintly. "Scared your trick won't work forever?" he asked, and then he shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Lock's been off, Sokka." He didn't wait for Sokka's expression before he headed onto the deck to make sure his crew were okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, many thanks to [Iron](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron/pseuds/Iron) for betaing! Any mistakes are absolutely my own, caused by my insistence on mucking about with it after Iron was done. And if you're not already involved, I am on [Tumblr](http://traxits.tumblr.com/) again, where [kooksthekook](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kooksthekook/pseuds/kooksthekook) ([innoculata](http://innoculata.tumblr.com/)) is creating some absolutely amazing fanart for Silk, plus posting tons of amazing references so you can get a feel for the types of clothes and hairpieces Sokka is wearing in this story.
> 
> ALSO, ALSO GUYS. I BROKE 40K. Silk is now officially the longest thing I've ever written, and the only things I have that are longer are series. I just. I have been freaking out about this for about a week very quietly. Or not so quietly if you're someone who lives with me. BUT SERIOUSLY. I JUST. SO MUCH FLAIL.
> 
> ...And now I'll go back to being that quiet author who doesn't write these huge author's notes.


	14. Swordsmanship

The sunlight seemed especially bright after the storm passed, and Sokka stood there for a long moment, sword in hand, face turned up toward the sky, enjoying it. He still hadn't quite gotten used to the way the sun rose and set every single day this far north, especially considering that for the most part, it rose and set around the same time.

It still weirded him out on some levels that people this far north seemed set in their determination to let such an arbitrary thing rule their days.

He opened his eyes when he heard Zuko's footsteps on the deck, and he smiled as he pulled the sword out of its scabbard.

He still had a dress on today, even for this, mostly because Meili had been the one to point out that he had to be used to fighting in it. If Zhao caught up to them and Sokka needed the sword, it wasn't like he'd have time to change. He had pulled out the hairpiece though, just because he'd been able to argue that even in the most heated of moments, he would have time to do that much.

Zuko stood there in his Fire Nation uniform, the twin dao sheathed on his back, and he studied Sokka's stance for a long moment. Long enough that Sokka finally lowered his sword and tilted his head and asked, "What, you having second thoughts?"

"Keep the sword up," Zuko countered, and Sokka frowned before he did as told. He didn't want to provoke Zuko into changing his mind. Jee and a few of the others were very good swordsmen, but Zuko was, by far, the best on the ship. He surpassed even Iroh, and Sokka knew that Iroh was excellent at most things.

When he'd asked about the training though, Iroh had chuckled and murmured that swordplay such as that was a young man's game.

Sokka wasn't sure what he'd meant, because the best teachers were always those who had lived through enough to know what they were talking about.

Then again, looking at Zuko now, Sokka couldn't help but notice his scar. Maybe Iroh had known exactly what he was saying.

"You just gonna make me hold it all day?" Sokka asked sharply, and Zuko glanced up at him, gave him this tiny smile, and then went back to whatever he was looking at. Sokka sighed, and he stayed where he was, until finally, the sword felt like it weighed a ton and he had to lower it again. "C'mon, Zuko, I thought we were going to _train_ —"

"We are," Zuko replied, and he shook his head as he walked over to Sokka. He made changes to Sokka's stance, touching him as little possible, nudging Sokka's foot with his own and guiding Sokka's arms with the edges of his hands. It was strange after how close they'd been, and stranger than that was that Sokka thought the whole thing strange. He focused himself again, paying attention to what Zuko was doing.

"Why are you moving me so much?"

"You're fighting with a jian, Sokka. Your stance is... better suited to my dao that your jian." Zuko tilted his head, still studying Sokka, and then he nodded faintly. He leaned in closer, and Sokka drew a breath as Zuko shifted his shoulders. With that last adjustment made, Zuko stepped back, and Sokka glanced down at his sword again, trying not to think too much about how close Zuko had been.

Why were there dark circles under Zuko's eyes anyway?

"What's the difference?" Sokka finally asked, shifting his hold on the sword until it was comfortable in his hand.

Zuko pulled the dao from the scabbard on his back, and he turned one so that Sokka could see it. "The dao," he said softly, "is for slashing. For attack. For doing as much damage as possible, I guess."

"Firebending," Sokka murmured. "It's the firebending of swords."

Zuko hesitated, and Sokka shook his head.

"No, it works for you. I get it. But it doesn't work for me."

"Not in those clothes, at least," Zuko replied, some of the tension in him easing. Sokka smiled, and he nodded as he took an experimental swing with the sword.

He froze when he heard Zuko's muffled chuckle, and he glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, Zuko had shifted back, and his lips were pressed together to hide the smile tugging on them. Sokka outright grinned.

"The jian," Zuko said, and he put both dao away so that he could guide Sokka back into the stance Zuko had arranged him in, "is for defense. It's about…" He was quiet for a moment, and Sokka watched him curiously as he tried to find the words. "It leaves less openings."

Sokka nodded again, looking down at the sword in his hand. A glance over at Zuko's back reminded him all over again about just how different the two styles of swords were. "Are there so many different kinds then?" he asked, unable to stand it finally.

Zuko blinked, and then he shook his head slightly. "No. Yes. But no. There's only so many variations on a blade. There are numerous applications of the blades however, and beyond that, stances and motion can make a world of difference between two otherwise identical blades."

"You've actually studied this, haven't you? Like, I mean, formally or something."

"I... of course. I was trained at a young age to handle various weaponry that i might be expected to wield," Zuko replied, and he frowned faintly as he looked at Sokka. "You're a warrior. Weren't you?"

Sokka looked away from Zuko then, and he leaned forward experimentally, trying a motion that felt a little more natural considering the pose Zuko had him in. "Not like that," he finally answered. "I can use a spear for fishing. It isn't that different to jab it at a person. I use a boomerang for...any number of things. Figuring out how to throw it at a person was a fairly natural extension. But swords and everything... I didn't have anyone to train me. All the warriors of our village left when I was little." He blew out a breath and looked up to the sky before he risked a glance back at Zuko again.

Zuko stared down at the deck, and there was that tension in him all over again. Sokka's eyes narrowed, and then he leaned over toward Zuko just enough to make Zuko blink and focus and catch him. Sokka chuckled.

"But I guess I have a teacher now, don't I?"

"Yeah," Zuko said softly. "I guess I do."

"There's not some kind of code of secrecy or something among Fire Nation warriors?" Sokka asked curiously, and Zuko raised an eyebrow before he shook his head.

Sokka liked the way the motion made his hair move.

"No. My swordmaster once told me that the art of the sword goes far beyond nation borders. I imagine he'd have liked you quite a bit."

"Is he dead then?"

"What? No. Would you focus?"

Sokka laughed as he looked back to the sword again. The jian.

* * *

Sokka could feel the dawn coming more than he could see it, and after that storm, the air was oddly clear. He felt like he might could hear as well as Zuko could with the air so clear, and his frown deepened.

No one walked by on the docks, not when it was so early in the morning, and he had long since given up standing in order to sit and lean over against the railing. The breeze had worked his hair loose, and his hairpiece was in a tangle on the deck beside him. He slid his fingers down along the scabbard of his sword, the motion idle and careless.

He wasn't sure how long he'd sat there, waiting for Zuko. He'd woken in the middle of the night, crossed the hall without waking Meili somehow, and knocked, but Zuko wasn't there. Sokka was fairly sure he hadn't been there all night.

So he stayed outside, breeze blowing past him, waiting. Iroh had long since given up talking him into going inside and had headed in rather than waiting with him. There was a blanket still folded up there by the wall, where Iroh had left it. Sokka hadn't touched it.

Movement in the shadows, and Sokka tightened his hold onto the sword, fingers curving around the hilt as he straightened up. Another breeze, and he stood just as something sharp prickled down his skin. He drew a breath, and just as he started to spin around, someone reached out and wrapped their hand over his.

He turned, and he huffed, scowling up at the bright blue mask there.

"You are the stupidest— What are you even doing?" he demanded, and when Zuko lifted his hand to touch the mask, Sokka slapped his hand down. "Not here," he ordered. "Go change."

Zuko stilled for a second, and then Sokka sighed and turned back around. He felt Zuko leave and he closed his eyes, blowing out a breath. Hopefully no one had seen him, because no one could know Zuko was doing anything that could be considered moving against the Fire Nation.

Or maybe everyone already thought he was moving against the Fire Nation, considering the very public courting and everything else. Sokka's hands tightened around the railing, and then he shoved off it and started to stalk into the ship proper.

He ran right into Zuko, who raised an eyebrow at him, and he hesitated before he let Zuko guide him back out onto the deck.

"What were you thinking?" Sokka demanded, and then he shook his head. "No, you were spying on Zhao, weren't you? What did you find out?"

Zuko sighed, looked out over the water toward the city, and he shrugged. "He's an admiral now. Not just General. He's commandeering everything he thinks can help him capture the Avatar. He _will_ manage it, you know. With those resources... As Admiral, he has almost the entire Fire Nation navy."

"Not all of it," Sokka murmured, glancing toward their own ship before he focused on Zuko again. "Okay, so he's an admiral. He's focusing mostly on the Avatar then?"

Zuko looked over at him, and Sokka blinked at how cold Zuko's gaze was. How flat. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Zuko without all that fire behind his eyes.

"He's coming personally after us. He's sending everyone he can spare after the Avatar."

Which meant the Earth Kingdom rebels had more freedom in their movements, Sokka decided, and he nodded slowly. But given Zhao, also didn't make much sense.

"Or," Sokka said softly, "he thinks we're all going to the same place eventually."

"Maybe," Zuko replied, and he sighed as he leaned over against the railing. "Or maybe he thinks that catching us will lead him to the Avatar."

"Right, because a Water Tribe Princess and the Fire Lord Prince couldn't have made any of these moves without the Avatar around." Sokka stepped in close to Zuko, and he leaned forward until his arms were draped over the railing too. He watched Zuko's face, and then he moved again, turning around and hoisting himself up to sit on the rail. "Okay, yeah, it would unlikely, but not actually impossible. Besides, if I thought you actually liked the idea of overthrowing your father, I probably would marry you."

Zuko went so still that Sokka had to look back at him again just to make sure he was still breathing. Then Zuko's eyes lifted to his, and Sokka's breath caught in his throat. There were there embers of that fire again.

"My father... is still the Fire Lord," he said softly, but there was something odd about his voice. Something that made Sokka lean in a little closer to him. "And will be the Fire Lord until his death. He will never step aside, Sokka. You and the Avatar... do you guys understand that?"

Sokka reached up, brushed his fingers against Zuko's shoulder, and he sighed as he shifted over on the railing. Zuko's hand lifted automatically to steady him, cupping lightly around his hip, and Sokka managed a smile he didn't feel yet. His own voice was low as he said, "Are you familiar with the Southern Raiders?"

Zuko's brow furrowed, and he looked away from Sokka before he nodded.

"The snow turns gray when they come. Mixed with soot, ash." Sokka looked up toward the smokestack on the ship. "It's a warning. Means that you hide everyone who can't fight, and you grab your war paint and your weapon, whatever it is, and you brace yourself. Because they're coming in their ships, and they're going to drag everyone out of the houses and look for waterbenders. The last one they killed was my mother."

Zuko's eyes closed, and Sokka was pretty sure he could have stopped there, but the words he was saying were words he'd been holding in too long. They escaped him, tumbling out one after another before he could even think about them.

"She lied. Told them she was the last waterbender in the Southern Tribe."

"But the girl—"

"Katara," Sokka murmured. His smile twisted a little on his lips, and he looked away from Zuko toward the scuffed up metal of the ship. Soot washed right off it, vanished, and as many times as Zuko and Jee and the others had practiced out here, it was a good thing. The ship was no worse for wear. "She's my sister. Our mother died to save her life, because we all knew they were going to come for her."

Zuko touched his cheek then, fingers curling against Sokka's skin, and Sokka blinked as he looked back up. It was almost strange, focusing on a face again, with those memories lurking so close. The hairpiece jingled against Zuko's fingers.

"You're not going to stop either, are you?" he asked, and there was a sharp pain in Sokka's chest.

He'd never thought this could hurt so much.

"I can't," he whispered.

"I didn't think you could," Zuko murmured, and he leaned in that last little bit to brush his lips against Sokka's. Sokka was still for a long moment, just feeling that, feeling Zuko, and then he leaned in closer so that he could kiss back. It was softer this time, slower, just lips on lips and Sokka sliding his hands up Zuko's arms to his shoulders.

A low gasp escaped him when Zuko tightened his hold on Sokka's hip, and he tried to inch forward, but then Zuko was against him instead. So close, so steady even through the way his hands trembled. Sokka pulled back from the kiss, and Zuko lifted a hand to brush his fingers against Sokka's cheek.

He licked his bottom lip, but before he could say anything, Zuko looked past him toward the dock. Sokka turned to see what he was staring at, and he dug his fingers into Zuko's shirt at the sight of the Fire Nation soldiers. They were soldiers that Sokka didn't recognize, and while it wasn't like he expected to actually recognize very many of them, he'd spent enough time around different groups of them to know to be wary around outsiders.

Because the Fire Nation military was more than big enough to have 'outsiders' within its ranks.

"What do you want?" Zuko demanded, and Sokka could hear the prince in his voice. It wasn't something that he heard very often anymore. Zuko was far more relaxed around his crew these days.

"Admiral Zhao is requesting the assistance of all Fire Nation—"

The words cut off, and Sokka closed his eyes for just a second before he turned to really look at the soldiers. More importantly, the motion turned him enough for them to see him as well. He let go of Zuko to reach up and brush his fingers against his collar, making sure nothing had slipped, that he still looked like the girl he was pretending to be. Zuko batted his hand away before he could do anything though, and the next thing Sokka knew, Zuko had interlaced their fingers. He had a little trouble pulling his gaze away from that to look back up at the soldiers again.

"Is that—"

"My lady," the other one blurted out, and Sokka flushed as he dropped his gaze, tilting his face away slightly. He cut a look up at Zuko, mouthed 'what do I even _do_?' and immediately regretted it.

Zuko took those words as permission to pull Sokka down off the railing and push him half-behind Zuko. Sokka hit his back, and Zuko didn't even flinch from it.

"You stole the Water Tribe Princess from Admiral Zhao?"

"My nephew stole very little, I'm afraid," Iroh called out, and Sokka started, glanced around Zuko to see him walking up from below deck. "The Princess came to us of her own accord. After all, they are betrothed, it would be odd for her to be elsewhere, yes?"

There weren't enough earthbenders in the world to bury Sokka deep enough to get away from his embarrassment.

"Uncle," Zuko started, but the flash of Iroh's palm was enough to silence him. Sokka wondered if Iroh could teach him that, and, not content to be hidden away where he couldn't see what was going on to help, he shoved Zuko again until Zuko stepped aside just enough to let him back around.

He didn't let go of Zuko's hand, however.

"The Princess was a guest of Admiral Zhao's," one of the soldiers said, and Sokka cleared his throat softly. It was still more than enough to snap their attention to him.

"I'm afraid there's been some miscommunication," he said, and he was careful to keep his voice as high as he could manage without sounding completely fake. After not needing to fake the voice on the ship with Zuko, Sokka had a much more difficult time with it. "But I was not stolen. The fight was very loud and upsetting, and when I saw my chance to return to my betrothed, I took it. You must thank Admiral Zhao for me. He did a masterful job with the Avatar in that skirmish, I hear."

Zuko snorted very faintly, and Sokka squeezed his hand tightly enough to wipe that faint grin from his lips. He nodded, serious all over again.

"Indeed. I am... lucky that Admiral Zhao was there to rescue her for me. However, you must leave. I have nothing to tell Zhao regarding his hunt for the Avatar."

One of the soldiers bowed, and they both stepped off the ship, but not before the other said, "It wasn't the Avatar that Admiral Zhao wished your assistance with, my lord. _That_ matter is well in hand."

No one moved for a very long moment, watching the two soldiers go, until finally, Iroh's voice broke the quiet.

"We wanted Zhao's attention," he murmured. "I think we have it."

"What did they mean, 'that matter is well in hand'?" Sokka asked, looking back at Zuko and Iroh. He didn't let go of Zuko's hand, and Zuko pulled on it just enough to draw Sokka closer to him. "You think he has Aang?"

"If he doesn't, he expects to soon." Zuko's hand tightened on Sokka's, and Sokka reached back to wrap his free hand around their interlaced fingers.

"Well, you can pay him a visit after you get some sleep," Sokka murmured. "You won't do anyone any good if you crash while you're there."

"Should have just stayed. If he _does_ have Aang—"

"You'll get him this evening," Sokka interrupted, and he squeezed Zuko's hand again. "Go sleep. We'll have a plan by the time you're up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, many thanks to [Iron](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron/pseuds/Iron) for betaing! Any mistakes are absolutely my own, caused by my insistence on mucking about with it after Iron was done.
> 
> I also made some fanart of my own, you can find it [here](http://traxits.tumblr.com/post/108554286327/so-this-isnt-particularly-the-sort-of-clothes-i) on Tumblr or [here](http://traxits.deviantart.com/art/Sokka-jian-508197654) on DeviantArt. I'm still trying to decide what I'm going to do with this story. I mean, I have several more pieces I want to draw, should I break down and make a collection or a series for this story on AO3 and just post my works to the series/collection? Opinions?


	15. Masks

He slept for exactly two hours. Then Zuko opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling for a minute or two. No, it was probably closer to five because there were so many damned thoughts in his head, all swirling around and chasing one another, and he couldn't seem to catch any of them to actually get rid of them. His hands flexed against the blankets, and he pushed himself up. He was still tired, still exhausted, honestly, but he didn't have time to stop, and with so many thoughts in his head, it wasn't like he was going to get any more sleep anyway.

He pulled on the plain black clothes he'd been using for this, and he didn't even look over toward the door.

They'd have a plan, Sokka had said. But he didn't need their plans for this. Uncle Iroh and Sokka were both twisty, plotting people, and this... for once, this was something simple. Zhao had the Avatar. Zuko was going to steal him back.

He pulled out the dao, studied the blades once more, and then slid them into the scabbard to put onto his back. He pulled up his hood, careful to tuck all of his hair into it, and then he reached for the mask. He hadn't bothered to wrap it up like he normally did. He just laid it out, and it caught the firelight in the early morning warmth, reflected it and twisted it and looked for all the world like it was laughing. He dragged a fingertip down against the blue paint, where Sokka had kissed him that first time. Then his lips pressed together and he fitted it into the pack he took with him.

He slipped off the ship without any trouble, the same way he had been doing since he'd first left to go spy on Zhao, and he headed into the woods. Once he was there, he pulled his mask on and left the pack in a tree near enough to the ship that he'd be able to find it. Sokka was right about one thing at least: no one could know he was willing to move against the Fire Nation.

Only, Zhao wasn't the Fire Nation. He was an arrogant General (Admiral, now, and just what was the Fire Lord thinking, promoting him?) who sought to overthrow his liege and burn the world to ashes under his feet.

Stealing through the woods back to the fort was much harder during the day, and Zuko finally hit the treeline where he could see the fort clearly. There were too many archers to try to approach straight on.

He sighed lowly, and he settled into the shadows of the trees as he watched the road. One chance. That was all he needed. The narrowest of windows.

He'd worked with less.

* * *

Sokka glanced toward the door to the bridge again, frowning before he returned his attention to the map that Iroh had pulled out. It was the first time Sokka had ever seen this one, because while they always kept a map out, the maps they normally had were just those with regular cities marked. This one, however, was obviously one that was never meant to show to anyone who might move against the Fire Nation. It showed forts and encampments, strategic points that needed extra guards.

If Sokka had been able to get his hands on this map weeks ago and escape...

Not that it mattered. Iroh was pointing out the fort Zhao was most likely to be at, and Sokka was still trying to figure out a good way to assault the thing without getting themselves caught as well.

Finally, he put his hand down on the map, looked at the door again, and asked, "Do you really think he's still asleep? He never sleeps, let alone for this long when there's something to be done."

Iroh shrugged. "I believe I heard Prince Zuko climbing down the side of the ship an hour ago. Likely, he is already there."

Sokka's next breath was entirely too shallow to be of any use, and his gaze snapped over to Iroh. "What?" he said, his voice very low. Too low to be a girl's, and he hadn't slipped like that in a while. "He can't— He's going to be caught. And then we'll have to rescue both him and Aang, and where will we be then?"

"Mm. If Prince Zuko is caught and unmasked, he will be branded a traitor," Iroh replied, still focused on the map. "There will be a much bigger problem, even when we do manage to get him out."

Sokka sighed, reaching up to rub his forehead, and then he shook his head. "Okay. We'll have to go. I mean, we have to get in there somehow. Maybe we can get a wagon or something and convince them we're making a delivery. They have deliveries to support the fort. No way they're self-reliant there."

A low, thoughtful noise, and Iroh nodded finally. "Simple enough. We will need Fire Nation signs, but we have those here on the ship. I will pass for an old trader."

"And I..."

"You can be my guard. I think you'll fit in Zuko's older uniform," Iroh decided after a minute.

Sokka froze at the suggestion, and he looked up at Iroh slowly. Iroh was still not looking at him, showed no sign whatsoever at even realizing how much the thought of wearing that uniform twisted low in Sokka's gut. He swallowed back his first reaction, thought about Zuko, strung up and unmasked and at _Zhao's_ brand of mercy, and finally he nodded. "O-okay," he said softly. "Zuko's old uniform. You got a key for his room then?"

"And breach my nephew's only place of sanctuary?" Iroh raised an eyebrow, but there was a grin tugging at his lips. "Sokka, don't be so ridiculous. I have his old uniform in storage down below."

Sokka's eyes narrowed faintly at the thought, and then he snorted and shook his head. "You _do_ have a key," he replied. "But fine. Uniform, wagon, and a change of clothes for you."

"You will need to wear your jian," Iroh added. "No other weapons. Nothing that would make them suspicious. The jian is... a little too noble for a simple soldier, but it will be assumed that it belonged to one of your parents."

Sokka nodded slowly. "Right. Because most of the Fire Nation warriors wield dao, like Zuko."

"It has a much wider range of attack, yes," Iroh agreed. "Come. Let's see how well this uniform fits, and then we will see about rescuing my overeager nephew."

As it turned out, the uniform was in a trunk in a small room that was full of nothing but boxes and crates. There were a couple of paintings under sheets, and Sokka would have peeked if Iroh hadn't been so focused. He opened up the trunk, and Sokka's eyes narrowed as he watched Iroh pull a bundle of red and black from it. There was another uniform under it, and it must have been even older, because Sokka had never seen a Fire Nation uniform look like that. He opened his mouth to ask, then snapped it shut again as Iroh lingered for a heartbeat, smoothing out the wrinkles. He touched it more tenderly than Sokka had ever seen him touch anything, and Sokka swallowed, turned his head and looked instead around the room.

Crates everywhere, all of them bearing the Fire Nation symbol, and it wasn't until Iroh cleared his throat that Sokka looked back at him. He took the uniform with both hands, studied it for a long moment, and then admitted, his voice shaking very slightly, "I don't know if I remember how to wear this kind of thing."

Iroh laughed, and he held out a hand. "Am I to play your maid now, or would you rather I call for Meili?"

"No, let... let her sleep." Sokka laughed faintly, and he shook his head. "I can manage. Give me a minute?"

A nod, and Iroh shut the trunk before he left the room. Sokka set the uniform down, and he drew a breath before he started peeling off the dress. It wasn't actually that much more work to get it off than his own tribal gear had been, and honestly, they were probably even about the same number of layers. It was just strange, letting the silk fall off him to pool onto the floor instead of into Meili's hands, and Sokka shivered as he peeled off the undermost layers. He stood there, almost bare, staring at that uniform for far longer than just a minute, but Iroh didn't knock, didn't rush him. His fingers shook as he reached out and started to shake out each piece to pull them on.

The pants fit weird, and the shirt fit even weirder, obviously cut for someone a little wider in the shoulders than he was. Truth be told, the uniform fit him, but only in the narrowest sense of the word. But then again, none of the newest recruits had a good fitting uniform, and he ran his hands down the front of it slowly. Zuko's old uniform, and it was still a little bit bigger than he was. How old was the uniform though? It probably wasn't the same one Zuko had been wearing when his father—

Sokka heaved, and he gasped, dragging in a breath as he shook his head. No, it wasn't the same uniform. Couldn't be. Iroh wouldn't have kept it because he wasn't that cruel, Fire Nation or no. Sokka reached up to wipe his forehead, and he ignored the faint gleam of sweat on his hand when it dropped back down. He drew another breath, closed his eyes, and focused on the sound of the ocean against the ship under them. There was no mirror in the room, but then again, Sokka didn't actually need one. He'd seen enough of these uniforms to know exactly what he probably looked like.

He stepped outside, and Iroh smiled at him before he reached up and brushed his hair back.

"Well now, look at you."

"I still don't look like Fire Nation," Sokka pointed out softly.

"No. You look like a youth from one of the colonies," Iroh said. He studied Sokka for another long moment, then murmured, "Are you going to put your makeup on?"

Sokka hesitated, reaching up to touch his face with trembling fingertips. His makeup. He hadn't been in public without it in some time, and if he was caught... would it be better for someone to mistake him for the princess? Or would it be better to cut ties entirely?

"Fire Nation doesn't exactly do war paint, do they?" he asked, a wry smile touching his lips. "I... yeah. Let me get it. I'll be ready in a minute."

He needed the ritual, if nothing else. He needed something of _him_ under this Fire Nation uniform, and the thought stopped him short. When had the makeup become part of him?

He shook his head, focused, and headed back to his room to start sorting through Meili's makeup kit. He'd watched her do it often enough that he didn't even have to wake her.

* * *

The wagon came finally after Zuko had been sitting there for a little over two hours. It was low to the ground, but it wasn't hard to sneak up to it long before it got to the fort, and he caught the bottom of it and held himself up to it. They drove on, and he could hear the guard's low voice as he spoke to the merchant. Chattier than Zuko would have expected, and there was something about that voice...

He shook his head, made himself focus. He wouldn't have long to move when the guard started his inspection of the wagon. They stopped at the gate, and Zuko started counting down in his head. Five seconds for the guard to check the back, then he'd grab the torch and duck down—

Zuko moved on six, carefully clinging to the side of the wagon just long enough to shimmy down and slip inside. No one sounded an alarm, and he sank down against the wall behind one of the crates with a relieved sigh. The hard part was just starting, but he'd gotten _in_ , and that was honestly the part he'd been most worried about. From here, he could dart out when the wagon stopped again, and he slipped through the hallways, knocking soldiers out before they could shout. He gagged each one and stashed them in the nearest closet he could find, and he worked his way all the way into the fort.

He'd scouted it just last night, and it wasn't difficult to guess which room Zhao would stash the Avatar in. There was only one room that could hold an airbender, only one room that was impressive enough to appeal to Zhao's particular brand of arrogance. Zuko lured the guards away one at a time, and strung them up from the ceiling before he bolted for the door.

Aang hung from chains in the middle of the room, and his head lifted when the door opened, cheeks puffing out only for the air to escape him in a sharp laugh as he recognized Zuko's mask.

"Zu—" He cut himself off at Zuko's headshake, and Zuko crossed the room to cut the chains holding him. Aang rubbed at his wrists for just a second, and then he wrapped his arms around Zuko's waist in a too-tight hug. Zuko's lips parted on another soft gasp, same as they had for the last person who had hugged him like this, but Aang felt nothing like Sokka. He reached down and pried the Avatar off of him, scowling behind his mask, and Aang _beamed_ up at him.

The kid was a moron.

"Blue Spirit," Aang said cheerfully. "That's what the Fire Nation soldiers are calling you now. I'm betting it has to do with you 'rescuing' the princess and all, yeah?" He winked, and Zuko rolled his eyes before he headed back to the door. Aang bent down to start scooping up mostly-thawed frogs, and Zuko reached out to catch his arm and haul him along.

"Wait, wait, my friends need those," Aang started, and Zuko just shook him very slightly. A sigh, another forlorn look toward the frogs slowly pulling themselves away, and then Aang stopped fighting him.

They ran instead, and in the daylight, it was much harder to actually sneak back out. He should have waited for Sokka and Iroh, maybe, but then he'd have needed to explain why Sokka couldn't be here. He wasn't ready to see the annoyance on Sokka's face for that yet. He didn't know how to explain to him that with Zhao thinking he was a girl, an heir, Sokka was at risk for something much worse than just being imprisoned. Zuko glanced around them, and Aang nodded toward one of the buildings. Smoke billowed out of it already, and Zuko's eyes narrowed as he watched a Fire Nation soldier kick another brazier over before sounding the alarm for the fire.

Benders rushed to the blaze, and Zuko shook his head, dismissing the soldier for the moment before he set to climbing the nearest ladder for the wall. He couldn't bend here, couldn't let himself be caught, and how exactly had he even been planning on getting Aang out of here in the first place? He blew out a breath, and at Aang's sharp hiss, he glanced down.

"They spotted us," Aang whispered, too loud, but it didn't matter. The soldier who'd kicked over the brazier (he stuck out, his uniform a little dated, the sword on his hip too damned familiar) stood there, watching them for a moment, and then he too started climbing the ladder nearest to him. He was on the other side of the fort however, and Zuko didn't think it particularly mattered. Not yet, at least. It would only matter once they got over there.

The important thing was that the soldier wasn't warning anyone about them. Instead, he'd distracted all the others with the fire, and—

That sword.

Zuko's breath stuck in his throat for a second before he looked back over. Without the dresses, the outline of the body was strange, unfamiliar, but the way he moved, the way he reached down and grabbed the hilt of that sword as he jogged the length of the wall.

"Sokka," Zuko hissed. He was going to _kill_ him.

Just not right then, because the alarm sounded and soldiers poured out every door Zuko could see. They must have found those soldiers he'd left dangling from the ceiling. Aang grabbed at his sleeve when the soldiers spotted them, and they wasted no time at all in grabbing the ladders normally reserved for assaulting the huge walls of the Earth Kingdom cities.

Zuko lunged to the first ladder, knocking down anyone who came up it, and Aang blew them all down one ladder, snatched it up, and leapt onto the second ladder.

"Grab that one!" he shouted, and Zuko didn't let himself think before he did just that. Maybe he was too used to following plans he didn't really understand— between Iroh and Sokka and Aang, he was surrounded by them— but he didn't let himself think about that either. He just moved, and when Aang shouted for him to jump onto his shoulders, he did.

The ladder bent under their weight, and just as they started to fall too fast to stop, Aang moved them onto the next ladder, and then onto the last one. They had just enough height to clear until—

One of the soldiers bent fire all the way up the length of the ladder, and Zuko bit back his swear as the ladder snapped and he and Aang shoved off it. He reached for the wall instinctively, but they were going to fall short and he knew it, could feel it—

A hand wrapped around his, hauled him up, and he focused on holding Aang, making sure Aang made it over the wall with him. Then he looked up at the Fire Nation soldier holding onto him. The boy still had his mask on, but this close, there was no mistaking that sword on his hip. Zuko scowled, twisted just enough to vault Aang up, and then he used Sokka's hand to brace as he pulled himself up.

Sokka wasn't strong enough to pull both of them up, after all. It had taken him bracing against the stone just to hold onto them.

Zuko scrabbled onto the top of the wall, Sokka took off his mask and let it clatter to the floor, and then Aang pointed.

"There! We can get out there. We just have to jump."

Sokka nodded, and as Zuko leaned over the wall to look, he felt his stomach sink. There was nothing but rock to land on down there, and while he was fairly sure he wouldn't die from it, he wasn't as convinced that they wouldn't all break several bones. He reached out again, brushed his fingers against Sokka's, and exchanged a look with him before Sokka nodded again.

"Iroh's still inside," Sokka murmured, and Zuko felt his stomach drop at the thought. He didn't dare turn, didn't dare look back over his shoulder. They didn't have the time to go back, and he knew that, but—

"He said for us not to worry about him," Sokka added, and he pushed his fingers in between Zuko's. "Let's go," he said, and they all jumped together.

Aang bent the air under them into a cushion to soften their landing, and they hit the ground running. Aang dropped back to run behind them, knocking arrows away as they shot toward them. None of them stopped until they reached the treeline, and even then, they didn't dare stop until they couldn't see the fort and they couldn't hear anyone after them anymore.

Zuko was the first one to stagger, the exhaustion catching up to him, and Sokka stopped with him, hand brushing against his mask for a heartbeat before he started to take it off. Zuko let him, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the tree.

"Don't tell me you're sick too," Aang said, and Zuko cracked his eyes open to look over at him.

"Just tired," he replied, and he waved a hand. "Go on. Go get your frogs and head back."

"Yeah," Sokka chimed in, and he smiled as he looked over at Aang. "Go on. I'll get him back to the ship, and we'll be gone before Zhao even realizes we were close."

Aang only hesitated a second, and then he nodded and ran on, much faster since he wasn't trying to keep pace with Zuko and Sokka. Then Sokka looked over at Zuko, raised an eyebrow, and asked, "Frogs?"

Zuko managed a very slight smile before he shook his head. "No idea. They were escaping from his clothes when I found him." Then he reached up and touched Sokka's face, sighing. "You were supposed to stay on the ship."

"Good thing I didn't," Sokka retorted, and he pulled Zuko off the tree to start walking again. "You were supposed to wait for me, so it's just as well, isn't it? Here. Let's just get back and wait for Iroh. He said if we got separated, we'd meet back at the crossroads. There's an inn there."

Zuko nodded, and he let Sokka lead the way to the inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Iron didn't get to proof this chapter. I only just finished it a few minutes ago, so if you find any mistakes, let me know and I'll get those corrected!


	16. Vows

It was Sokka who went into the inn and got the room, and Zuko climbed in through the window once he'd gotten settled. He dropped onto the bed, and Sokka closed the windows and curtains, then came over to pull the mask off as Zuko closed his eyes. He was so tired. He was so worn down from the constant posturing and the chasing and the knowledge that it was going to end with Sokka against his father. Sokka would probably wear that damned jian on his hip.

His father would kill him, pure and simple; burn him alive and Zuko would have nothing—

"What are you thinking?"

The rough note in Sokka's voice stood out, and Zuko looked over at him, his lips pressing together. Sokka stood still, holding onto the mask. His fingers slid along the wide curve of the grin, the fangs that accented it. Zuko drew a breath and pushed himself up. Tired or not, he couldn't let himself sleep now. Not without being sure of Uncle Iroh's safety, of _Sokka's_ safety. It was dangerous, so far from the ship and without back up from the others.

If Zhao got him...

"Nothing," Zuko finally said, watching the way Sokka's head jerked up. There was fire in his face, a fierce burn that Zuko ached to touch. Sokka wasn't in the mood for it though, because he was still across the room. Zuko couldn't remember the last time they'd had so much space between them. Certainly not since Sokka had stayed with Zhao. Sokka slammed the mask down hard enough that Zuko winced, wondering if the thing had broken. It wasn't meant for the abuse he'd been putting it through, night after night.

"Then let's put something in that head of yours," Sokka said, voice even and hard as he met Zuko's gaze. "You left. We had talked about what we were going to do, about you sleeping, then coming down and us having a plan—"

Zuko waved a hand, and he stood up. "I couldn't risk it," he countered. "I couldn't have you there—"

"I saved your life!" Sokka's voice pitched high, and he looked toward the door before he finally stepped in close. He didn't touch him even though he was more than close enough to, but he stared up at Zuko, muscles in his jaw tight. "I saved your life, Zuko, the least you could do is trust me."

"It has nothing to do with trust," Zuko countered. He bared his teeth at the suggestion, his shoulders rising a little as the tension started in him. Something in his stomach churned at the idea that Sokka thought he didn't trust him. He trusted Sokka almost more than anyone else. How could he not, when Sokka was so fierce, so protective, so... everything that Zuko had never thought to find in another human being?

"Then what is it? Tell me exactly, Zuko, because I cannot believe that you did this, that you would just leave when you knew that Iroh and I were working on a plan."

"I didn't need a plan," Zuko said. "For once, this one was simple. No twisty plots or anything else. Zhao had the Avatar, so I took him back. It was simple, Sokka." Zuko pressed his lips together again. Then he looked away from Sokka before he added, "This one was something I could do. Alone."

"You're telling me you ran off because of _pride_? Because you saw your chance to do something alone and you just couldn't wait, couldn't—"

"I did it because it was a stupid risk to have you there, Sokka!" Zuko's hand clenched at his side, his father's temper, the Fire Lord's temper, coursing just under his skin. Too close for comfort, too close for safety. He'd never thought of himself as dangerous until the first time Sokka had flinched from him, from the heat he was capable of bending. "What we're doing is dangerous, and if you get caught—" His own breath hitched at the thought, and he forced his hand to relax, forced himself to breathe. "We're cavorting," that was a Sokka word, but Zuko couldn't think of another that suited, "around like it's a game, but Zhao will probably kill you if he catches you."

"He wants—"

"Warriors you don't have. And he will do anything to get them. You think that because he thinks you're betrothed to me that you're safe? That he'll have to woo you somehow? He won't." Zuko lifted his chin slightly, watching the color bleed away from Sokka's face. "There are means to force a betrothal in the Fire Nation. All he'd have to do is take you back there—"

"I'd die first," Sokka said, the words flat, more honest than Zuko wanted to believe. He scowled.

"You think I don't know that? You'd kill yourself given the chance, or Zhao would, once he knew that you... Why else would I have tried to do this alone? I was trying to keep you safe!"

"I'm not yours to protect, Zuko!" Sokka's voice was heated again, flaring in response to Zuko's. Sokka wasn't a bender, but sometimes, Zuko felt like he was. Or like he could be. "I'm a warrior for the Water Tribe and—"

"I—"

But Sokka didn't stop, didn't let Zuko interrupt him this time.

"—and you can't wrap me up in cotton and put me on some stupid shelf!"

"I know that," Zuko snarled back, and he caught himself reaching out, reaching to wrap his hand around Sokka's arm. He stopped himself, jerked back, but damn, he should have left it alone because focusing on that left his idiot mouth to run free, and he could barely believe the exclamation he heard from it: "But I love you and I—"

He snapped his mouth closed. Swallowed. The silence between them was thicker than any air Zuko had ever felt before, and it made his skin crawl with the same tingle of a storm brewing on the open water. It felt like his ears were full of his own words, repeating endlessly, echoing, and what was he supposed to do now? How was he..?

He jerked back, snapping his eyes down and away from Sokka's too open expression, from the shock and the surprise that only fed into the thickness of the air. He turned on his heel, but before he could get away, Sokka's hand caught his arm. Wrapped around him. Kept him exactly where he was.

"You..."

Zuko's eyes closed, and he braced himself for it. For the inevitability of what had to be coming. Sokka wasn't...

"You _know_ I'm not actually a girl," he breathed, and the words weren't quite a question, but they were so soft, so unsure, Zuko half thought Sokka meant them to be.

He turned back to look at Sokka. He met those eyes, still wide and Sokka's lips were parted slightly, barely breathing. Zuko raised an eyebrow, trying to focus on anything that wasn't how much he wanted to kiss Sokka, make him understand that Zuko had never—

Purposely, he leaned back just enough to drag his gaze down the length of Sokka's body. He was undeniably male in that uniform, even with the makeup on his face softening his features. It wouldn't have fooled Zhao or anyone for even a moment had he been unmasked, and Zuko swallowed past the instinctive fear that the thought brought up. Instead, he made himself stay focused, and he reached out to drag his fingers over Sokka's hip.

He could hear every breath Sokka drew, and when Zuko's fingers slid up the side of his ribs, Sokka's next breath hitched as sharply as Zuko's had earlier.

"I know," he said, and the words were so low that Sokka leaned in slightly to him. Zuko wasn't about to let that opportunity pass by, and he turned his head, catching Sokka's mouth with his own for a kiss.

It wasn't their first kiss. It wasn't even their second.

But Sokka talked more than he did, put more weight behind words and plans than he ever did actions, and this time, Zuko wasn't planning on letting him hear anything else. This time, Sokka was going to hear what Zuko was trying to tell him every time this happened.

"Believe me," he murmured against Sokka's lips, "I know."

And there were days when Zuko wished all of this was real. That Sokka really was some Water Tribe Princess promising to marry him to help him win back his throne. There was something magical about the idea, something that spoke to him on a level that the reality just didn't. They were a pair of kids— idiot kids— thrown in something that neither of them were really ready for. Uncle Iroh had raged about that the first few months on the ship, and Zuko had never understood. He'd thought everything had been clear enough: he had dishonored himself and his father, and his punishment had been fitting such an action.

But now...

His hands wrapped around Sokka's hips, and he couldn't bring himself to let go when he finally pulled back from Sokka's lips. The glossy shine to them was smeared. Probably, Zuko was wearing some of it on his own mouth. He licked his bottom lip, then he shook his head and he pressed closer to Sokka.

"What did you think the kisses were?" he asked, making himself stay on point, making himself think about this. About the damned words that Sokka would want. 

"I ... I don't know." Sokka's voice was rough though. He did know. Zuko could hear it in the way he breathed, could see it in the way Sokka dropped his eyes for a second. His lashes were thick, heavy and black with something, hiding his eyes. Then they lifted and Zuko couldn't stop the way his fingers flexed on Sokka's hips, holding him even closer. "I thought," Sokka said, and he had to swallow before he could finish with, "you were just... no, we. I thought _we_ were just... caught up in it all."

"In your fairy tale?" Zuko murmured, and when Sokka nodded, he smiled faintly. "The Avatar being alive after a hundred years is a fairy tale, Sokka. This? There's no fairy tale about this. Whatever this is. Us."

"Maybe," Sokka said softly, but he didn't look away from Zuko again. "Or maybe there is. Maybe we'll change something. Everything."

Zuko frowned, but before he could ask, Sokka leaned in to kiss him again. For a heartbeat, Zuko considered chasing it, considered the pros and cons of figuring out just what Sokka thought they were capable of changing, what he thought the two of them could do in the face of the entire Fire Nation navy at the beck and call of a madman. Two madmen, maybe.

Then he decided that the kiss was more important. Sokka's words would keep, while this was far more fleeting.

He shifted his hold on Sokka's hips, hands sliding in between them to see about poking his fingers under some of that fabric. He'd been thinking entirely more than was healthy about that skin, and so help him, but he wanted to see it. Touch it. He wanted to know what Sokka was like bared instead of behind his armor.

Because no matter how soft or delicate, Sokka wore every dress, every scrap of silk, like armor. It was all some kind of uniform that Zuko had never understood. He still didn't understand, but he understood the 'why' of it all, and that was what mattered.

He kissed Sokka back hard, needing this more than he wanted to admit. More than was ever decent to admit. But still, there was something...

He pulled back, hating himself for every second that he let slip by, and asked, "You... You're okay with this, right?"

Because Sokka wasn't the Water Tribe princess that they were pretending, but there was still something about this moment that felt more final than Zuko had expected. If Sokka had actually been that princess, if Sokka had been born a girl, or this deception had been played out with his sister instead...

Well. Zuko had changed much in the years he'd been cast out from home, but he was still too much Fire Nation to overlook this. To pretend it meant nothing to him. To convince himself that he wouldn't have had a real marriage on the table in this.

Sokka blinked slightly up at him, his eyes already just a touch hazy, and he nodded after a second. "I think so," he whispered.

It was good enough, wasn't it?

Zuko hesitated, holding Sokka's gaze, and then Sokka nodded again. It was much more determined this time. Convincing himself, maybe.

"Yes. I'm good, just... I've never... You know, not a whole lot of opportunity for this kind of thing in—"

Zuko kissed him again before that momentum built into something that he couldn't stop so easily. He didn't point out that it actually hadn't occurred to him that Sokka might have done this before. He'd never forgotten the shyness Sokka had when he'd gotten out of the hot water in the forest, and while some of that could have been chalked up to cultural difference, not all of it.

(It felt like a lifetime ago that they'd rescued Iroh. Was what when everything had started to change between them? Or was that just when Zuko had noticed it?)

Sokka reached out for him then, hands tangling in the back of the black shirt Zuko wore, and Zuko kissed him until he could feel Sokka's nails digging into the fabric. It was the breath of air Zuko hadn't realized he'd been needing, something to fan the flame that he'd been so close to choking. Sokka touching him, holding onto him with the same desperation that Zuko felt every time he so much as brushed against Sokka; it was enough to draw a sound from his throat, something rough and low and guttural. He wanted to feel the same want in the way Sokka held onto him. Then he slid his own hands down to wrap over the outer line of Sokka's thighs, and he pulled Sokka up against him. Sokka didn't need coaxing to wrap his legs around Zuko's waist.

They had never been so close except when fighting, and this time, when Zuko managed to make himself move and lower them both onto the bed, there was something different prickling under his skin, a heat that was oddly unfamiliar.

He'd long since learned every one of his body's reactions to everything. It was safer as a firebender, easier for him to manage the white hot blaze of rage and the too cold flame of dishonor that he kept alight in his chest if he knew exactly how he was going to react to anything. It had been that desire to learn his body that had sparked the first time he'd ever tried this, tumbling some girl in one of the Earth Kingdom ports they'd stopped at. It had done nothing for him, hadn't slaked any of the hunger in him, hadn't soothed any of his temper, no matter how much the men on the ship had whispered he needed it to do just that. If anything, it had only made him angrier, had only infuriated him that he was so far broken—

But this. Sokka under him, rocking up against him, fingers pulling on the back of Zuko's shirt in an attempt to get it up, the way he moved...

This was a heat Zuko had never felt before, and he chased it with the same single minded focus he'd always applied to his training. He kissed Sokka hungrily, pushing down against him, keeping him pinned on the bed as he freed up one hand to start getting that uniform open.

It wasn't hard, even though everything was backwards. He'd never undressed another boy, never done _this_ before. He didn't think it was worth stopping to mention. He was too far gone on the little noises Sokka made into his mouth, on the way Sokka's temper flared same as his own and he damn near ripped Zuko's shirt in an attempt to get it up.

Zuko tilted his head enough to nip at Sokka's throat, the barest hint of teeth, and Sokka managed a little laugh under him as he shook his head.

"I don't really, you know, do warnings," he said, and Zuko couldn't stop the way he snorted for that reminder. He knew that, had ever since Sokka had charged him that very first time on the South Pole.

"You say that," he murmured, and he bit Sokka's earlobe just because he could, because it made Sokka jerk against him, "like I don't know it."

"Nn... Zuko, c'mon, it..."

"Focus," Zuko said, and he couldn't quite stop the little smile on his lips. Sokka's hips shoved hard against him, pressing them together, and his eyes closed for just a second before he managed to find his own focus and get Sokka's uniform open, off. Off was the goal there, and Sokka shivered as the fabric slid away. Zuko didn't throw it aside, just left it under him, open and loose and the minute he could, he put his mouth on Sokka's skin. Lips and teeth and tongue, working his way down over Sokka's chest. Sokka moaned for it, and he finally managed to get Zuko's shirt up. Zuko growled faintly as Sokka attempted to pull it over his head, not wanting to pull back long enough to bother, not wanting—

But the feel of Sokka's fingers against him was too good to pass up, and he finally jerked back, pulled the shirt off, and let it fall to the floor. He dropped back down, licking at the line in the middle of Sokka's stomach, tracing the muscles that the swordplay lessons were defining on him. Zuko half-wished they'd done this before, just so he'd know how much was different. Had he shaped Sokka as thoroughly as Sokka was reshaping him? Had he left any mark as blatant as the change Sokka left in his wake?

"Zuko," Sokka breathed, and Zuko shuddered for the sound before he bit just above Sokka's navel. Too hard— he felt Sokka flinch— but he felt better when he pulled back.

He didn't dare breathe an apology, not when he knew full well that he'd meant that bite, but he worked his hand between their hips to get Sokka's pants open, to get in there and—

Sokka jumped under him, eyes widening as Zuko wrapped his hand around his length, and his lips parted on what would probably have been a moan if Sokka had enough air. But as it stood, Zuko held his gaze as he moved his hand, slow and easy slides, just enough to get this started, to stoke the fires he knew Sokka carried in him. He wanted to see that fire. He wanted to watch Sokka's face as he—

"Zuko..."

Beautiful. That was the word that Zuko knew he should say, but somehow, it stuck in his throat as he watched Sokka's expression. With Sokka flat against the bed under him, Zuko's hair hanging down like some kind of curtain, it felt like it was just the two of them, like the rest of the world was gone. The only thing left was this, Sokka pushing into his hand, the surprise and pleasure and _want_ on his face the only thing that mattered. Zuko watched him until he couldn't take anymore of it, until he felt like the heat in his chest was going to burn him alive, then he leaned down and kissed him.

Sokka kissed him hard, nails raking down Zuko's back as his hips shoved up over and over again, trying to coax a faster rhythm. Zuko wasn't entirely sure he wanted to give in, but it was too appealing to pass up. He couldn't stop himself from letting Sokka coax him into it, letting Sokka bend him, same way he'd been doing. He nipped at Sokka's bottom lip, then he pulled back to nose Sokka's chin up enough to kiss his throat again. Scrape his teeth over it. His hand moved faster as Sokka moaned, his own hips jerking hard against the steady pressure of Sokka's thigh against him, and he let himself toy with the idea of kissing Sokka's throat harder, sucking a bruise into the skin there, something to change Sokka, too, to make this even in a way it had never been—

Sokka jerked under him, nails biting deep enough into Zuko's back that he wouldn't have been surprised at all to find blood there later. He moaned as he felt Sokka's length twitch in his grip, pushed too far because doing this yourself was one thing, but feeling someone else...

Sokka shuddered as he broke in Zuko's hands, and Zuko dropped flat against him, still kissing his throat. Soft. Sweeter than he'd ever thought he had in him. Because so help him, but Sokka just changed everything around him, changed Zuko like he was nothing, like he was—

Sokka's eyes cracked open, and Zuko shook his head faintly before he kissed Sokka again.

Given the day, given the adrenaline earlier and the argument and the unfamiliar sensation, it didn't surprise Zuko at all that Sokka fell into a doze as Zuko pulled his hand back. For a long moment, Zuko stayed right where he was, aching and hard and _needing_. He wasn't thinking about that though. He was studying Sokka's face, the ease there, the smeared makeup and the way that Sokka was so lax when he slept, so open, so trusting. Like sleeping had never been anything but safe, and Zuko drew a slow breath before he pulled himself away from Sokka.

He stumbled slightly as he crossed the room, and he wrapped both hands around the back of a nearby chair to brace himself. His eyes closed, and he focused on his breathing, on steadying himself and just... being.

That was what Iroh was always after him to do. He needed that skill set if he was ever going to rule one day, and with a glance back over his shoulder at Sokka again, he knew that ruling was not something that he just wanted now. He needed it. He had to be the Fire Lord if he was ever going to manage to keep Sokka safe, and that meant that he was going to have to kill his father. Sooner rather than later. Simply deposing him wouldn't be enough. It was never going to be enough.

A rustle outside drew his attention, and he pulled his shirt back on before he headed to the balcony. He leaned over the edge just as Iroh made it to the edge of the inn, and Zuko breathed out a soft sigh of relief. There had never really been any doubt that Iroh would make it out, but seeing his uncle again was still... Not letting himself think about it, he headed down the side of the building, the same way he'd come up in the first place. Iroh smiled widely at him, and Zuko tilted his head back as he met his uncle's gaze. He let Iroh wrap him up in a too-tight hug, the way he always did, and he hesitantly patted Iroh's back, wondering if this was something he and Lu Ten had ever done, or if Iroh had simply resolved never to miss a hug again since he couldn't get another from his own son.

"Prince Zuko," Iroh murmured, and his voice was the same steady tone it always was but there was something in his eyes, something sharp and ready to spark fires off of. "I'm glad you made it out—"

"Uncle," he said, before Iroh could distract him with any nonsense. This was too important to give up now, too important to risk letting his resolve crumble. And the truth was, he needed this. "I have to become the Fire Lord."

Iroh's smile faded slowly, and he studied Zuko for a long moment before he finally nodded. "You do. Eventually."

"Now." Zuko drew a breath. "I need the title. It's the only way I can..."

Iroh looked past Zuko toward the window. He couldn't see Sokka from where they were standing, but there was no doubt who had brought Zuko to this inn to wait for a meet up. If Zuko was here, Sokka had to be as well.

"Very well," he breathed. "We should return to the ship then. Plan."

Zuko nodded slowly, glancing back over his shoulder toward the window himself. They needed that. They'd need the best plan Iroh and Sokka could come up with for this to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who don't follow my tumblr and thus had no idea what took this chapter so long... I'm so sorry! I had open heart surgery in order to remove an extremely large but thankfully benign tumor from my chest about a year ago, and my health problems leading up to it just meant that I really didn't have the focus or the energy to update before. And after... well. I had some other issues, mostly emotional, to work through before I felt like I was in a good enough place to work on this. Add to that moving across the country in November and everything else, and it just... Yeah. So. Anyway! My health is fine now. Physically, I've fully recovered and am starting to finally get my normal levels of activity completely back, and emotionally... I'm in a much better place now than I was.
> 
> If you didn't notice, I did organize Silk into a series now, mostly to try to coax [theLiterator](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator) into posting her fanfics into my series since I pretty much consider them canon, and to help organize the one-shots and side-scenes that I was writing on my tumblr. Everything in this series is 'canon' (that's a weird thought, applying that to my fanfiction) to the Silk story unless marked otherwise.
> 
> I also added an "[Everything Silk](http://traxits.tumblr.com/silk)" page to my tumblr to organize all of my various fics, fanarts, headcanons, and reference materials for the story. If you're interested in any of those, feel free to take a look.
> 
> Also, HUGE thanks to [BlueRayofSunshine](http://bluerayofsunshine.tumblr.com) for helping me out with this chapter. Trust me. I probably write the first 2k of this chapter at least four times before I finally settled on one I liked. You were a huge help, hon!
> 
> And I don't know that I've ever actually said anything on here, but thank you so much to [theLiterator](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator) too. She's been utterly amazing in her support of this story over the years, and in fact, she only ever watched AtLA to help me with this. She was also incredibly amazing during my surgery and after and just... You may or may not realize how much I appreciate it, but it's definitely past time that I was a little more public about it. I couldn't have done this without you. Any of it. Hell. Without you, Silk might not have ever been posted in the first place. Thank you, dear.


	17. Surrounded

Everything had changed between the Prince and the Princess.

Meili could see it in the way they interacted, in the flush on Sokka's face when he came back to the room finally. She could see it in the way Zuko stood in the doorway, watching Sokka's door closed. Most importantly, she could see it in the way Sokka held himself. Something had changed. Everything had changed, and while it was the best news she could have hoped for, she knew that it spelled the end of her and her role on the ship.

Still, she smiled when Sokka looked up to meet her gaze, and she dropped her eyes to the sewing in her lap. "I take it the rescue was successful?"

"Yeah," Sokka murmured, and his voice was lower than normal. She wasn't sure she'd ever heard him sound so male. She glanced back up, raising an eyebrow, and he must have realized, because he coughed and corrected his tone. "Yeah, it went well. Avatar's safe and Zhao was thwarted again."

"By your infamous protector spirit?" Meili couldn't help but smile at the way Sokka waved a hand.

"I told him not to, but he never listens—"

"He's the Prince," she pointed out, lowering her sewing as she watched Sokka pace. It was more than she'd originally thought then, because he scowled at the reminder and shifted before he headed over to drop across his bed.

"Yeah," he replied. "A prince. The Prince. And what am I? Just some stupid chieftain's son—"

"You," she countered, "are a Water Tribe Princess." She stood, shook out her work, and studied the fabric before she waved him over. "Come here and change. I want to see how this falls."

He eyed the fabric dubiously, more mistrustful than he'd been the first time she'd met him. And oh, what a case he'd been then, barely able to walk, certainly not able to pass in any way that was reliable. He'd come a long way though, because, as she studied his face, she realized that he'd applied his own makeup before their rescue operation. She'd noticed her kit moved, but she hadn't thought anything about it. She hadn't imagined that he'd been paying enough attention to apply it himself.

It was a little starker than her own work, a little less blended and a little more layered, but it was good. Solid.

It was a relief to know, because doubtless he'd need that skill all on his own soon enough.

He came over to her and let her help him change though, and once she was finished pinning the last hem, he changed back into more normal undergarments for their room. She shook her head as she dropped her attention back to her work.

As the silence stretched and his fidgeting grew worse, she finally asked lowly, "What brings up your status, Sokka?"

He jerked, then looked back over at her. "... He's a prince, Meili. A real prince, with honor and duties and a kingdom to fight for. I'm just a..." He hesitated, then shook his head as he looked back out the narrow window. "This is all pretend. I'm not a real princess. I'm not even a full warrior for the Water Tribe. I'm just... Sokka." His brow furrowed, and she blew out a slow breath so as not to catch his attention.

It was serious then. Had he been the princess they were pretending, he probably would have been—

No. It didn't matter. He was a boy, and his relationship with the Prince was not the relationship she was meant to guard. She had always only intended to protect him from Zhao, no matter what Zhao chose to believe of her. No matter what he thought he had on her.

She shrugged. "Yes, well, it appears that 'Sokka' is who the Prince is interested in, isn't it? And since that's all you claim to be currently, that's just as well." She eyed the Fire Nation uniform heaped on the floor, and she shook her head, sighing. "That uniform is ancient. The poor soldiers at the fort must have thought you some Colony bumpkin."

Sokka grinned back at her for that, his mood momentarily set aside in favor of the joke. "Yeah. They did. Just as well. Means they'll be looking in all the wrong places, right? Besides, they straightened up a bit when they saw the sword."

The sword that Sokka was still holding onto. The gift from the Prince that Sokka had hardly let out of his sight. It wasn't like the other gift that remained in its brown paper, tucked away in one of the bags just because Sokka didn't know how to bring himself to open it.

It mattered too much. It all mattered too much. Meili could understand. Sometimes, she was so in love with her Prince and Princess that her chest felt like it might burst from trying to contain it. They were going to reshape the world, weren't they? General Iroh certainly thought so, and she knew, deep down, that her family would understand. They would approve of this.

She hoped they would at least.

Not that any of that mattered for a few more days at least. The routine was a little upset given everything between them, but both the Prince and the Princess seemed content to leave things unspoken. Or at least, they were both determined that the other one would be the one to break the silence on anything that truly mattered.

But Meili knew that the Prince met with his uncle regularly without Sokka. It was odd enough that it brushed against the years of training she had to keep herself and those she cared about safe in the courts of the Fire Nation. It didn't matter that she trusted the Prince and his uncle both. What mattered was the secret, the fact that it could have been a danger to herself or Sokka, and she couldn't let that stand.

Still, it wasn't hard to find a crew member near to one of the meetings, and from him it was too easy to find out what she needed to know. He had been removed from court too long. He'd forgotten the steps of the dance, or maybe he'd never known them if he was so hell bent on following the great General Iroh, even into this self-imposed exile with the Prince. It didn't matter. She had the secret, the knowledge that the Prince had committed himself to his birthright, no matter who had decided to take it away from him.

The knowledge shook Meili to the core, gave her a sensation she hadn't let herself feel since Zhao had first laid eyes on her.

(And oh, to turn back time enough to tell that fool girl to _run_ , to ignore the general and pretend he'd never spoken to her at all. But then she wouldn't have been here, and she knew things happened as they were meant to. Even the bad. With this, it had placed her in a position to protect the Princess. It had all shaped her into a warrior that the girl she'd been back then would never have recognized. General Zhao had shaped a weapon; the question now was how she chose to be handled. Whose hand did she trust on her hilt?)

Hope. For the first time since Zuko's exile, she could see light at the end of that tunnel. She could see the way the world would shift the moment Ozai's brutal reign was over. There was still more blood to spill between now and then, and she could understand the Prince's decision to tell Sokka later. The Princess was softer than he was, at least when it came to these things, and there was a coldness about Sokka when the Fire Nation came up.

He had neither forgotten nor forgiven the Fire Nation for the atrocities committed in her name. Meili wasn't so sure she blamed him.

* * *

There were eighteen energies of the blade. Zuko had made Sokka memorize them all and repeat them back so many times that sometimes, Sokka found himself reciting them in the quiet of his own head. Particularly on the walk back to his room after dinner.

_Splitting. Chopping. Stabbing. Thrusting. Snapping. Cutting. Deflecting._

His eyes cut over to the side to study Zuko, walking beside him. He was quieter these days than he had been since they'd helped Sokka escape Zhao. Truthfully, Sokka hadn't realized how much Zuko had been talking until after their time at the inn. Still, Zuko insisted on walking Sokka back to his room in the evening, and that was something.

_Blocking. Stirring. Smearing. Flicking. Spiraling._

Their steps slowed as they reached their rooms, and for a moment, they both simply stood in the hallway between their doors. Then Zuko looked over at Sokka, and he tilted his head very slightly to his own door. Sokka considered it. Meili was still in the mess hall with Iroh and the rest of the crew. There had been talk of singing, of dragging out instruments for an impromptu music night. While Sokka had thought that sounded fun, he'd spotted the pained smile on Zuko's face. He'd excused himself then, so Zuko would have a graceful way out, but the thought of staying alone in the room seemed less than appealing. He nodded after a heartbeat, and Zuko pushed the door to his room open.

_Slicing. Parrying. Raising._

Zuko's room was always warmer than Sokka's, and Sokka suspected, as Zuko lit the candles, that Zuko (or, more likely, Iroh) had arranged everything in here without so much as even thinking about it. Or maybe not. Maybe everything had its place, ritual that was as old as the Fire Nation itself. A very faint smile touched his lips at the thought of Zuko allowing that kind of tradition to rule him, and then he brought himself back to reality. Back to the simple fact that Zuko did let tradition rule him. If he didn't, he wouldn't have been out here in the first place, hunting the Avatar, would he?

_Carrying. Sweeping._

He crossed the room to the edge of the bed, and without waiting for an invitation, he dropped down to sit on it. Zuko met his gaze, and Sokka raised an eyebrow, a very faint smile quirking the edge of his mouth as he reached down to start loosening the knots Meili had tied that morning. Zuko stayed right where he was, halfway across the room, until Sokka started to peel off the outer layer of skirt. A strangled noise escaped him, low and rough and wanting, and being able to get that kind of sound from Zuko was addictive.

_Closing._

But nothing matched the feeling when Zuko took over undressing him. It was nothing like Sokka had ever considered it might be. He'd always pictured Zuko as rough when it came down to taking what he wanted. He'd have bet more on being shoved up against the wall and having to fight just to get a hand free.

In reality, Zuko was surprisingly careful with him. His hands splayed over Sokka's skin, like getting to touch him was the single best gift Sokka could give him. Or maybe he just liked the novelty, liked seeing the stark contrast between his hand and Sokka's thigh or side or stomach. Sokka hadn't figured that out yet.

Eighteen energies of the blade. That's what Zuko had made him memorize. And since learning them, Sokka had seen how they applied to things other than simply fighting. Now, like this, kissing Zuko and reaching to get that uniform open with hardly any words between them, Sokka couldn't help but wonder if maybe there were more than just eighteen, because it seemed like he was feeling all of them at once and none of them at the same time.

Zuko bit him, and Sokka moaned, his eyes closing for a second. There were words that he could have given Zuko for that. Choice and catty and there was no doubt that they'd have caused that hint of a smile to play around Zuko's lips.

That smile always caused something to squeeze uncomfortable tight in Sokka's chest, caused his breath to catch, and how was he supposed to keep this up? What was even between them that kept them doing this?

He dragged in a breath, and he kept his words to himself, because he didn't need the reminder of what a traitor he was for doing this, for enjoying this so damned much. His eyes squeezed more tightly closed, keeping back the pricks of heat there, the war he hadn't settled within his own heart.

Not like Zuko had apparently settled his own. He'd blurted it out at the inn, and sometimes, Sokka just replayed those words, replayed the shock and horror that had crossed Zuko's face the moment he'd realized exactly what he'd said. Replaying it didn't seem to make it anymore real though, and no matter how often he replayed it, Sokka couldn't seem to find an answer. Zuko had said he loved him. But Sokka...

Well. Sokka didn't know what this feeling was, what this need that crawled under his skin and made him arch up against Zuko was. He didn't know and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He had a duty to his people, didn't he? A mission he was supposed to be completing, and yet here he was with Zuko, the Prince of the Fire Nation. And he didn't want to leave.

He didn't want to leave, and he didn't want to sabotage the ship, because somehow, Zuko had stopped being 'Fire Nation' in his head. He was banished after all. He couldn't return without either having the Avatar or being willing to go to war with his father. And there was no way Sokka could ask him for that. Which meant that this, no matter how good, had to be temporary. Because eventually...

Sokka dragged in a breath, and then he kissed Zuko harder, arms wrapping over Zuko's shoulders. He swallowed down the noise Zuko made for it, and he rolled them both over so that he was on top of Zuko on the bed, dress sliding down around him where they hadn't bothered to actually push any of the fabric away. Sokka leaned back, one hand splayed across Zuko's chest, the other reaching up to pull the pin from his hair just so that it would stop jingling every time he breathed.

The expression on Zuko's face stopped him though. Zuko's lips had parted, and Sokka hesitated, hand still on the pin. "What?" he breathed, and Zuko shook his head sharply.

"Nothing," he said immediately. Sokka raised an eyebrow at the tone. Zuko swallowed, and he pulled Sokka's hand down, careful not to pull the pin out in the motion. He pushed his fingers in between Sokka's, holding on to him. "Just... Leave it in?"

Sokka didn't stop his slow grin, and he leaned down, the cascade of glass lilac beads spilling across the bed beside Zuko's head. "Leave it in?" he murmured, and his grin widened at the flush of red that splashed across Zuko's face.

"It's... hot," he finally muttered, and he leaned up to catch Sokka's mouth in a kiss before Sokka could laugh. Just as well, because it would have ruined the whole effect if Zuko had realized that Sokka was blushing too.

* * *

It was a letter that spelled the end of her service to the Princess.

Oh, it was officially delivered to General Iroh. It was sealed and all very formal and elegant. She recognized the script that spilled across the inside. One of Zhao's scribes had copied his master's words, had given them their invitation to dinner. To a dinner that she had no doubts would end with swords and fire and someone's death. The only question was who it would be.

The simple letter caused all pretense of a truce to shatter.

The Prince and the Princess snarled and bared teeth at one another, unwilling to let the other place themselves in such a dangerous position, and General Iroh only stroked his beard, considering their options. He handed the letter off to her, and she studied it carefully.

"You cannot possibly sit at a dinner next to Zhao, he's—"

"Planning on killing you! He just wants to marry me. Honestly, I think—"

"You talk like that's an option!"

She ignored their argument, the fact that they both wanted the same thing, that each was unwilling to yield to the other's warrior blood. Instead, she focused on the letter. There it was. Her code. A meeting place and time, hidden within the script. She swallowed, and when the General looked back at her with his questioning gaze, she smiled and shook her head. Murmured something about having always wished her own script was even half as elegant.

It was true enough to disarm him, and the crew trusted her enough that sneaking out that night was simple enough.

She found the stash that Zhao had left for her, and her heart twisted painfully as she realized it was explosive. Blasting jelly. Several small barrels, and she spent most of the night secreting it away in the ship. By the time she collapsed in her bed, everything ached. Her arms and shoulders ached from carrying the stuff, her chest and stomach ached from the idea of the betrayal. From the knowledge that none of them would ever understand.

But she woke just before Sokka anyway, and she prepared her Princess for the day. Carefully applied makeup and one of the beautiful rich blue dresses, with enough detail and embroidery that Sokka looked to be worth a fortune. She arranged the hairpieces they never bothered with when they were only on the Prince's ship, and she decided, after a long moment, to go with the blue and gray and teal pin to accent everything. She always loved how it cascaded down just behind Sokka. It was feminine. Expensive.

Zhao would appreciate it, but it wasn't Zhao she had dressed the Princess for.

The door opened and the Prince stalked in, stopping short as his eyes met the Princess's. There. That expression, that look, that yearning. That was what she'd dressed Sokka for, and she smiled to herself as she arranged Sokka's small bag that he could take with him. On a whim, she packed the present he'd never opened in the bottom. On top of it, she added other essentials. Makeup and a fan and another hairpiece that Sokka loved so much.

After all, there wasn't going to be a ship for him to return to. For any of them to return to.

She walked with Sokka to the door, but she didn't leave with him. She only smiled, and arranged another piece of his hair.

"Try to enjoy yourself. And remember, you know how to handle Zhao," she murmured as Sokka nodded.

"Right," the Princess murmured. "I can handle Zhao. I'll be back late, Meili. Don't wait up."

Meili promised that she wouldn't.

She leaned against the door for a few minutes after they left, her eyes closed, simply breathing. She had to make sure they were far enough away that they wouldn't realize what was happening. She glanced back down at the letter Zhao had left for her with the barrels of blasting jelly, and she felt another shiver run through her.

None of it mattered. The only ones who mattered were already off the ship, and this was going to be it. It was going to be her final moment of grace, her proof that Zhao had no hold on her. Her fingers smoothed across the letter, and then she shook herself and made herself focus again.

She pushed open the door a short while later, and she started down the hall. She had stashed the jelly in among several other crates, and thankfully, Zhao's letter had included everyone in the invitation. Doubtless so that he could demand the crew for his own purposes, especially if it was true that he was mounting his final assault on the North Pole. He'd need every able body that he could get just to keep the ships on course.

She dropped down to kneel, carefully attaching the fuse, and she uncoiled it as far as it would go. It was foolish of her, but she wanted to be able to stand where she could see the sky when the ship exploded. She needed enough time to get up there, and even though the longer fuse meant more chance for this to go wrong, it was worth it. Or it would be.

She lit the fuse, and she started counting in her head as she started up the stairs to the deck. She wouldn't have long, no matter how far out she'd rolled the thing, and she didn't want to die in the belly of the ship.

She hadn't expected to slam into the Prince as she rounded the corner, and she gasped, her eyes wide as she looked up at him.

"Prince Zuko," she blurted, and he raised an eyebrow at her as he glanced past her.

"Is everything all right?" he asked, and she shook her head as she shoved at him.

"No, Prince Zuko, you have to— You weren't supposed to be here!" She shoved him out the door just as her mental count ran down, and she flinched instinctively. And the Prince, as honorable as he was, pulled her in close, using one hand to bend the fire that suddenly filled the air around them. It was too hot to breathe, and every time she tried, everything caught ablaze anew.

He wasn't supposed to be on the ship.

She was the one supposed to die here. Not him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your continued support with this fic. You have no idea how wonderful it is to share it with you and get this kind of response. Here we go, starting to set the stage for the final act of book one!


	18. Mourning

Zuko and Zhao were oil and water. Having Zuko here when they all knew that the dinner was a cover for Zhao to commandeer the crew was a foolish idea. Sokka had been completely unwilling to yield on the point. It was asking for trouble, and even Iroh had agreed.

Still, sitting there at the table, staring at the long chopsticks next to the smaller, plainer ones, eyeing the platters out on the table and the small bowl of white rice sitting right in front of him...

He wouldn't have minded having Zuko at his side. Zuko, at least, would have made sure Sokka didn't embarrass himself.

He lifted his chin slightly as he risked a glance over to Iroh. No help there. The man was drinking his third cup of tea, proclaiming that it was the best he'd had in the longest time, and Sokka couldn't hide his smile as he sipped his own. It wasn't bad, but it was only tea, and he had never quite understood Iroh's fascination with it.

If Zuko had been there, they'd have exchanged eyerolls. Sokka blew out a slow breath to steady himself. He didn't need Zuko here. He had this. He knew what he was doing, and more importantly, he could handle Zhao. He had managed it thus far, and that was without Iroh there to run interference. Not to mention, having Iroh at his side lent credence to the betrothal that he and the prince supposedly shared. Iroh knew it, too, and he'd already made a point referring to Sokka as his niece.

The reminder of what he and Zuko had already shared made him blush faintly, much to the amusement of any of the men who noticed. Sokka didn't have to wonder what they thought he was blushing over, and he watched as someone used the longer chopsticks to get food from the communal platters in the middle of the table.

"Not hungry, Princess?" Zhao's voice hadn't changed since Sokka had last seen him, and Sokka might not have realized that anything at all had changed if he hadn't already known.

"Apologies, Admiral. My mind is elsewhere," he murmured, light and easy, and he smiled as he followed suit, getting a few bites from one of the platters and tucking them into his bowl of rice. He switched to the smaller chopsticks then to maneuver the food into his mouth, a little more out of practice than he'd like since neither Iroh nor Zuko insisted on chopsticks at every meal, and he wondered at the thought that the Fire Nation had ever managed to feed themselves this way. What was wrong with food that could be eaten with fingers? Or a spoon?

"Doubtless. It is an ill omen for a groom to be so sick so soon to the wedding."

Sokka smiled, just as easily as he always had when Zhao had pressed him for a timeline. "Doubtless, but between my people and yours, it would seem everything is an ill omen."

Zhao chuckled, shaking his head as he refilled Iroh's tea cup, much to Iroh's appreciation. He tapped the table in gratitude, but he didn't bother stopping the story he was in the middle of telling.

Sokka dropped his gaze to his bowl, and he picked out a piece of mushroom, careful not to dig too much in the bowl. He knew from the stories Zhao had told over some of the dinners they'd shared that such behavior was rude. Uncouth. Not fitting for a Princess. The mushroom wasn't meat, but it was the closest thing out of the platters immediately handy. Doubtless it was more of those expectations that the Fire Nation held when it came to their ladies.

He glanced up and he nearly choked as he realized Zhao was openly watching him eat. He'd never done that before, and suddenly, Sokka wondered if he'd stumbled into some other cultural detail he'd overlooked. He thought he had a handle on Fire Nation table manners, but...

Before he could ask, Zhao chuckled. "I forget sometimes how young you must be," he murmured, and the way he spoke sent a shiver down Sokka's spine. Instinctively, he leaned very slightly closer to Iroh, who leaned over to put a few other things in Sokka's bowl to try.

"The Princess is nearly of marrying age, Admiral. She is not as young as you might think."

Sokka glanced back toward Iroh, then he dropped his gaze and started trying one of the pieces of meat that Iroh had found for him. He took the moment to chew and swallow, bracing himself, before he added, "I'm fifteen, Admiral. Hardly a child."

That only made Zhao laugh. "Doubtless. It is a part of your charm though," he said, and he leaned in closer, until Sokka was concerned that Zhao might actually try—

No, not in public, and not with Iroh here. He was aiming to unsettle Sokka, keep him off balance and reacting. But Sokka had played enough Pai Sho with Zhao to recognize the gambit. He turned his head toward Iroh again a little more quickly than he normally would have, just enough to make the longer pieces of the pin in his hair swing out.

They didn't actually hit Zhao. That would have been a bit much, even if it would have been satisfying. But it was a warning, an easy way to reestablish his space, and he felt more than saw Zhao lean back to where he'd been sitting. Purposely, Sokka reached to put something in Iroh's bowl, and he met the General's gaze, surprise filling him at the sheer amusement that he could see there.

But Iroh only shook his head, and Sokka decided that he'd press for an explanation as to _what_ was so funny later. When they got back to the ship.

All thought of that fled the moment the doors to the hall opened. In fact, everyone turned to look, conversations falling silent as a girl staggered in, blackened and charred fabric trailing behind her, the smell of smoke filling the room. Behind her, Sokka could see something in the harbor ablaze, even if he couldn't make out what, exactly it was. His stomach dropped sharply, every bite of food weighing him down, matching— if not exceeding— the pressure on his shoulders of carrying this whole thing off.

Her head lifted, and Sokka drew a sharp breath as he met Meili's gaze. Her hair was singed, same as her clothes, and she was covered in small scrapes and bruises and _burns_.

For another second, as they stared at each other, the hall was quiet. Then the alarm sounded, and soldiers all ran for the harbor, shoving past her.

Sokka didn't wait for anyone else to help. He shoved himself up and vaulted over the table, ignoring the way his dress dragged over everything and sent several platters crashing to the ground. He caught Meili just as she sank down, shuddering against him.

"Meili," he breathed, and she looked up at him, her eyes glassy with tears that she was too strong to let fall. Her hand started to come up, probably to brush his hair back, but she spotted the soot on her fingertips before she touched him and she pulled back. He couldn't let go of her to grab it and pull her close, try to reassure her. Not without dropping her.

"The Prince," she managed after a heartbeat, and Sokka was aware of Iroh behind him, reaching to help hold her up. "The Prince has been murdered."

There was no movement in the room for those words. Not even the air trembled, and Sokka had to force himself to breathe, force himself to focus. Meili was here, burned and ragged, and he could feel Zhao's eyes on him. He watched as Meili slowly dragged her gaze away from Sokka, past him and Iroh both and to the Admiral, still standing on the other side of the table.

"Who dared?" he asked, and Meili swallowed.

She glanced back at Sokka for just a second, then looked to Zhao as she said evenly, "Pirates."

She was trying to tell him something. Sokka could tell that much, he just couldn't quite make himself focus beyond those words. The Prince. Zuko. Murdered.

It wasn't until Iroh's hand landed on his shoulder and held on that Sokka realized he'd stopped breathing, and he sucked in air sharply, making himself cough, making his whole body shake. Zuko. Dead. Because Sokka had insisted he not come to this stupid dinner and—

"The Fire Nation will mourn the loss of the Fire Lord's son," Zhao said firmly, and those words broke the composure that Sokka had managed to hold onto. Meili might have been able to hold her tears back, but Sokka couldn't. It was everything all at once, the tide too high and spilling over. It was the loss of his mother, the loss of his tribe, the loss of everything he'd thought himself to be, and now this, losing his—

He didn't even have a word for what Zuko was to him, did he?

Meili pulled him in close, hiding his face and his tears from Zhao, and he sucked in greedy, hiccuping breaths in an attempt to steady himself. Iroh's hand squeezed his shoulder, and Sokka could just barely hear him assuring Zhao that none would mourn more than his niece, Zuko's betrothed.

"My brother will not be happy to hear that pirates murdered his son," he added, and Sokka felt a chill off the words. The promise of a storm that devastated everything it touched. "Especially given that your fleet is in the area, Admiral."

"Now, General Iroh, you and I both know that pirates are not very good pirates if they can be caught by a fleet. That said, I will dispatch a few ships to see if we can't track these fools down for their audacity."

There was another long moment of quiet, but Sokka didn't pull back. His makeup was likely ruined, and he could only hide his face in his hands for so long. Eventually, he'd have to pull them down, and if he saw the same satisfaction on Zhao's face that he could hear in his voice, Sokka wasn't sure that he'd be able to hold himself back.

"Allow me to provide quarters for the three of you for the night at least," Zhao finally added, and Meili coaxed Sokka back up to his feet, even though she didn't let go of him.

Iroh was the one who said, "We appreciate the hospitality, Admiral."

Only a fool could have missed the thunder rolling behind that voice.

Sokka gathered Meili into his arms as they all stood, and he focused on her, on trying to figure out just how he was going to actually carry her while dressed this way. He had to do it without tripping over his skirts or stumbling. Zhao watched him, brows drawn together, and Sokka ignored him. It wasn't until he got Meili across his back that Zhao protested and stepped in close, hands up to take her away.

"Oh, come now, Princess, one of us can surely—"

"Don't," Sokka said sharply, and his hold on one of Meili's arms— limp, and she'd lost blood because Sokka could see it painting a trail into the faint evening light— tightened until his knuckles were white. She didn't make a noise, which worried him more than anything else. "Don't touch me."

Zhao stopped short, temper flashing, and it was Iroh who murmured lowly, "Princess, the Admiral is only trying to help."

"The Water Tribe takes care of its own," Sokka flung back, unable to focus on anything past this moment, past the fact that he had to get Meili somewhere safe, had to—

"She's not Water Tribe," Zhao pointed out, and Sokka bared his teeth.

"You gave her to me to serve, did you not? You trusted her to me, and I have taken care of her this far. I am not about to fail her here, now, especially when I already failed—"

The name hung in the air, though Sokka didn't know how it managed that, because it was so heavy that he was shaking under a weight that had nothing to do with Meili. He sucked in a breath, and he could feel the tears still in his eyes, could feel the way that he was so close to losing it all...

"Princess."

Sokka's head jerked up at the new voice, and he stared up at Liang, one of the guards who had stayed with him when he'd stayed with Zhao. The one Meili liked bossing. Sokka could see Zhao's temper threatening to flare, but Iroh put a hand on Zhao's arm to keep him back, to stop him from interrupting. It was the first time Sokka could remember seeing Iroh touch Zhao at all. Sokka shifted Meili across his shoulders, looking back up at Liang. His uniform wasn't as nice as it had once been. He'd been demoted. Probably because of Sokka's escape.

The escape Liang had been injured during.

Before Sokka could even attempt to figure out what to say to this man, Liang held out a hand. He didn't touch Sokka, didn't reach to take Meili away like Sokka wasn't capable of carrying her. He just held out that hand, and he murmured, "You've protected her so far, but this is an alliance. Let your allies help you now."

The words were soft. Steady. Even. And more reasonable than anyone else would have managed. Sokka knew that. It didn't stop his instinct to pull away, didn't stop the way he couldn't bring himself to admit that handing her over felt like she might vanish too, the same way Zuko had, the same way his mother had all those years ago.

(There had been so much smoke, and so much fire and Sokka had honestly never known that they had that much to burn in the village. But it seemed like the fire wouldn't stop as it raced from house to house, fur to fur, woman to woman to child, and under it all was the putrid and sweet scent of blackened flesh— so thick that it was a film he'd never scrub off his tongue. And when he'd finally gotten back home, he'd walked in only to find his sister, eyes wide and breath shallow as she stared at the shell that used to be their mother. Because the Fire Nation hadn't taken prisoners that day.)

His hold tightened on her arm, and then Sokka's composure cracked, tears escaping him all over again, fresh and broken and flowing faster than he would have expected. His knees buckled, but before he could drop, Liang had stolen Meili into his arms, cradled her against his chest.

Her short, dark hair stuck to the soot and blood on her face, and Sokka reached to brush it back. His hand shook so badly that he had to pull away before he touched her though. He squeezed it into a fist, and Iroh approached him, wrapping an arm over Sokka's shoulders.

Somehow, when Iroh did it, it made everything feel lighter. Not okay. Nothing was ever going to be okay again, because everything he'd ever loved was always at this stupid risk from the Fire Nation—

Only... Zuko hadn't been killed by the Fire Nation, had he? It had been pirates. Probably the same pirates Zuko had misled when he'd been looking for the Avatar and Katara, when Sokka had been with Zhao. Sokka had heard the stories of course, but he hadn't... listened. He'd never been good at listening to Zuko.

Iroh guided him to the door, and he leaned against Iroh's side as they walked down the path, following the trail of blood. Of tears. Of soot and ash and death.

All the way back down to the docks, with Zhao and Liang behind them, and Sokka stopped short as they rounded the corner of a building and a blast of heat caught him in the face. The ship was still burning. He'd been able to smell it, to see the glow, but to see it like this, so close...

Benders and soldiers alike rushed to fight the fire. It was strange, watching red uniforms bend flame _away_ from the ship, and it was even stranger to see green uniforms trying to drop enough dirt on it all to smother what couldn't be bent away. Oil glistened and shimmered on the water, and Sokka spared just a moment for the thought that they'd never get it out of the harbor. If the war had never happened, there would have been airbenders to direct the smoke and waterbenders to put the oil back into containers.

But that life was gone. It had been burned away in a searing flame that had blackened the world, had destroyed the face of one prince, had murdered Sokka's mother, and had taken everything—

No. Katara was still out there, with Aang and Suki, and his father was still fighting. He had to be.

And this flame that had destroyed everything... It had a name. It had a throne. It had a life that could be taken in order to restore some semblance of balance to the world.

Iroh drew Sokka closer, and Sokka let him, turning his face to watch the ship for as long as he could. Memorizing it, writing the heat and the smell and the thickness in the air into his heart so that he could draw on it. Remembering his mother wasn't easy anymore. These days, when he thought of her, he could only barely picture someone who looked a lot like Katara. But this... this was fresh. This was raw. This was ground glass in a wound that he hadn't realized was scabbing over. He could use this.

By the time they reached the small ship to take them out to Zhao's flagship, Sokka had drawn more of the South Pole around his heart than he'd realized he even carried with him. His head was high, chin out, shoulders back, and even Iroh had let him go in favor of studying him. All narrow eyes, the same look he occasionally got in the midst of a good Pai Sho game. Sokka wasn't playing a game though.

There was too much at stake, and he wasn't sure what he'd been thinking, why he'd been so distracted.

That wasn't true. He knew exactly why he'd been so distracted, and that knowledge made his chest hurt, made something twist and scream under his skin. He couldn't let himself cry more though, not and risk whatever was left of his makeup. Instead, he held himself steady, and when Zhao put him back in the same room he'd been in, he couldn't help but be slightly relieved.

Or at least, he was relieved until Zhao put a hand out to stop Liang from bringing Meili in.

"Take her on to the sick bay," Zhao ordered, and Sokka spun on his heel, only to find Zhao filling the doorway, effectively trapping him inside. Sokka's hands clenched into fists at his sides, and he lifted his chin a fraction more.

"What's the meaning of this, Admiral?" he said sharply, and Zhao met his gaze, a very faint smirk lifting one corner of his mouth.

"Why, Princess," he murmured, and his voice was too smooth, silkier than Sokka had heard from him in a long time. Sokka had forgotten the sound of victory in Zhao's voice, and he hadn't realized it until now. "The Fire Nation takes care of its own. I will return your maid when she is fit for duty once more."

Sokka's lips pressed together, but before he could argue, he caught the slight shake of Iroh's head out of the corner of his eye. He swallowed back his first words, and he managed to force himself to suck in a breath. Calm down. Blow it out. Too late, he realized that it was the same rhythm Zuko used when he was trying to control his temper. That realization made his throat tight, and he nodded faintly rather than try to force words out.

He didn't let himself look away from Zhao, not even long enough to meet Iroh's gaze. 

"Thank you, Admiral. Your consideration and hospitality both are greatly appreciated." Then, before Zhao could interrupt him, he added, "Offering Liang to stay with Meili is very thoughtful since I know him."

Zhao's mouth parted, and Sokka could see the calculation there, the guessing. Zhao, after a long moment of trying to decide if it was worth it to argue, finally nodded. "I thought she might appreciate a familiar face," he said, and the words nearly choked him.

Sokka didn't smile for it though. He didn't smile, and he didn't even find enjoyment in it. He just nodded himself, and he finally pulled his gaze away to look over his shoulder at the room. "If you don't mind," he murmured, "I need to change. Propriety must be observed, Admiral. General."

The door shut as they left, and Sokka's eyes closed as he heard the telltale 'click' of the lock twisting. Prisoner again, and this time, he didn't even have Zuko's name to shield him. He had nothing here except...

He opened his eyes, looking back at the room.

Nothing had changed, and while that was strange because Sokka had expected him to rage, to destroy this room during the middle of his temper, Sokka was too grateful for it to let himself think on it too much. Instead, he walked to the trunk where his clothes were kept, and he pulled out the longest white gown he had there. His fingers slid over the crushed velvet, studying how it glinted in the torchlight. Like snow.

Death, but the Fire Nation never saw it like that.

His jaw tensed, and he tossed the dress onto the bed before he stripped.

Each whisper of silk over his skin only reassured him that he'd drawn ice around his heart as thoroughly as he was capable. Were he Katara, he could have done a better job, but were he Katara, this would all have gone so differently.

He let the rich blue hit the floor, and for a few heartbeats, he simply stood there in the thinnest layers of cloth against his skin. The room was cold— there was no flame in the heater. The only heat at all came off the torches near the door, and Sokka was too far from them to really feel it. He dragged fingers over his arm, and he was so numb that it almost felt like someone else's hand against him.

Zuko's, maybe. He had dragged fingertips over what felt like every inch of Sokka's skin that he could bare. It hadn't felt quite like this though, hadn't—

He shook his head, forced himself to breathe again, and looked down at the white dress. He laid it out across his bed, every movement mechanical because he'd been dressing in these clothes for so long now that he wasn't sure he remembered how to wear anything else. Even the Fire Nation uniform had taken him time to get it on, and how was he supposed to come out of this whole? How was he supposed to remember who he was, _what_ he was?

He closed his eyes as he tied one knot in the belt across his middle, and he shook his head once more. No. The only thing that mattered was his fight for his tribe.

For Katara and his father and his grandmother and everyone he'd left behind in the South Pole.

He shook out the pale blue skirt more out of habit than anything, and he wrapped it around himself, the motion familiar. Easy. Another knot, this time in front, and he opened his eyes again to look across the room at the torches. If he'd been dressing for dinner with Zhao, he'd have had at least a few more layers. But this wasn't for Zhao. Not completely.

(He could remember the women back home wearing their white dresses. A week of mourning after the men had left on their attack, and while that wasn't nearly long enough, life had intruded. Children needed to be taken care of, and food had to be gathered, and white dresses, while they had bandaged the emotional wounds, hadn't been practical. So while the mood of the village hadn't grown better, the dresses had been packed away and stored.)

He reached for the white velvet, and he pulled it on carefully. It was Fire Nation style and Water Tribe colors, and he couldn't think of anything better for this. White for the ice he carried in his chest, and yet... It would have another purpose.

White wasn't for mourning in the Fire Nation. Zhao wouldn't see mourning when he looked at Sokka in this dress. He'd see what he wanted. And without Zuko's name to protect him, Sokka had very few options left. He had to make sure Zhao didn't so much as entertain the idea of leaving him somewhere. The most important thing was to make it to the North Pole, and to sabotage Zhao in any way he could before he jumped ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I played a little fast and loose with cultural details here, mostly ignoring the fact that Avatar seems to assume that all of the nations share like, basic utensils, despite being pretty heavily influenced by radically different cultures. I like culture shock and culture clash in my fic, so I played some of those probable-differences up here. Also! Surprise! Double feature this week. Chapter 19 is finished, and I'll proof and edit it tomorrow morning before I post it in the evening.


	19. Trust

She woke in a room that she had sworn she'd never step foot in again. She knew the room without even opening her eyes. Zhao had always favored a particular incense, and while she'd never learned the name of the blend he used, the scent was enough to warn her of danger. She drew a slightly deeper breath, and then Meili opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling.

She wasn't in his bed, small mercies. There was no canopy over her head, no ostentatious display of his power and privilege. Instead, she was in a small roll on the floor. She closed her eyes again, reminding herself of the orders her Prince had given her. Then, she braced herself as she moved to sit up, and movement across the room drew her attention.

"Good of you to join me," Zhao murmured, and he didn't look up from the correspondence he was reading.

She swallowed, then she asked, her voice low, "Has my service to the Princess ended then, Admiral?"

He lowered the letter, glanced over at her, and he leaned back as he studied her. It was too forward, too much, but she couldn't bring herself to correct it. She'd already said it, and backpedaling with him only admitted to weakness. Instead, she met his gaze evenly, keeping her expression as blank as she could manage. Her fingers twisted in the blanket to keep from shaking and giving her away.

She could give nothing up to him without risking Sokka, without risking Zuko, and she would die before she allowed herself to be their weakness. This wasn't a novel, wasn't a historical poem or a drama or a play. She would not be the cause of their downfall. She may have been a servant, and common born on top of that, but it only made her more like Sokka than she'd ever imagined. And he was a princess.

She could at least be his shield here.

"Possibly," he finally said, and he folded the letter before he set it back down. "I haven't decided yet. First, I wanted to know about her relationship with the poor dead prince." He smiled for that, too sharp and too wide for polite company. But she wasn't polite company in his eyes, not like she was in Sokka's, or even like she was in Zuko's. Her hold tightened on the blanket.

"What of it?" she murmured, raising an eyebrow. "They consider their alliance as much a romance as anything else. She keeps the details to herself, but she..." A pause, just long enough for Zhao to shift in his seat, and she added slowly, "She considers herself in love with him, I believe, Admiral. She can be wielded, but it would take time."

He nodded, and then he left the writing desk to approach her. Meili did not let herself flinch from him as he knelt down, one hand cupping the side of her face. His thumb slid along the delicate skin just under her eye, and she didn't let her breath catch. She knew the threat, knew exactly what he was capable of. How many times had she cleaned up the poor idiots left in his wake after he'd seen her at that banquet, after he'd convinced her...

No. It didn't matter. Zhao never kept promises. And only a fool would have believed him in the first place.

She tilted her head very slightly into his touch, just enough to apply a little pressure against her face, and his lips quirked in another grin.

"Time is something the Princess does not have," he said. Meili's eyes widened slightly, too instinctive for her to catch, and he chuckled as he dropped his hand away from her face. "You did very well with the Prince. It was all very dramatic. No one suspects a thing, and I didn't even have to make it obvious that I took their crew. The Princess is in shock and Iroh..." Zhao's smile faded before he shook his head. "We are almost done with this charade, Meili."

She nodded faintly, and she glanced to the side before she licked her bottom lip. Then she asked softly, "And then it will no longer be 'Admiral,' will it?"

"No. It will be far grander than that. And you—"

He turned to her, but before he could get any closer to her, there was a heavy knock on the door. Meili's next breath trembled slightly as Zhao looked toward the door and scowled.

"I said no interruptions," he shouted, and for a second, Meili thought the fool on the other side of the door had given up.

He must have been new though, because she heard the muffled, "General Iroh is asking for you, Admiral."

Zhao's hand tightened into a fist, then he smoothed out his expression and looked back to Meili. "When I return, we will speak more."

She kept her eyes down, a polite deference that Zhao always preferred, and she held her breath until he was gone. Then her eyes lifted, and she dragged in a much more ragged breath than normal. Movement by the door made her jerk, and she stared at the soldier there for a long moment. Zhao rarely allowed soldiers to stand inside his room for long, and she lifted her chin slightly, forcing her composure back up.

If this was a soldier Zhao trusted—

"Are you okay?"

The words, the _voice_ , made her flinch, and she looked up sharply. The soldier took off his white, blank mask, and she barely recognized the low noise that escaped her. Instinctively, she dropped into a bow low enough that her forehead touched the floor.

"Prince Zuko," she breathed, and she didn't look up until he crossed the room and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You never did that on the ship," he muttered, and she glanced up at him, a very slight smile touching her lips.

"The Princess wouldn't have understood."

He sighed, glanced back at the door, then he dropped down to a crouch beside her. He reached out to brush her hair from her face, and she shivered at the thought of being so close to Zuko, to her Prince, to the only royal who had the strength to do what needed doing—

"The Princess isn't Fire Nation," he finally said, and there was something sad in his face, something that made Meili's heart twist in her chest. She tried not to focus on the scratches and bruising that she could see on his face. Damage she'd inflicted, wounds he bore because she'd been—

She had to swallow before she managed, "I thought that was the point." For that, his eyes flicked back up, and they shared a brief smile before he stood back up.

"Come on. I'm not leaving you in here."

"You have to." She made herself smile, soft and easy, as she looked up at him. "I can handle Zhao. I'm not the Princess. You can't risk Zhao looking for me and possibly finding you—"

"That's not your call to make."

"How can you trust me?" The words spilled out of her, stupid and careless, but they were too important to ignore. Too important to pretend she hadn't said them. Zuko looked back at her, and he sighed as he shook his head.

"I haven't been in court in years now, Meili," he finally murmured, and his easy acceptance of the fact was enough to make her wince. She knew he hadn't been at court in years. The court had changed without him there, no matter that he had never been the same kind of player that his sister was. He changed the room by simply standing in it. "I'm out of practice of distrust."

"I don't think so," she protested, no matter how strange it was to argue with her Prince. If he wanted to tell himself such pretty lies, who was she to strip them away? But she had been around the Princess too long, grown used to blurting out idiotic things in response to the Princess's own enthusiasm. "I think you're choosing to trust me, and you won't tell me why."

Zuko tilted his head back, considering that. She could watch it across his face as he thought about what to tell her, and she spared the briefest thanks that he _wasn't_ in court. He'd need new coaching and schooling before they ever allowed him to speak in front of anyone. He truly was out of practice.

"Did you mean to have me killed?"

The stark words were a slap— no, a punch straight to her gut— and Meili gasped faintly before she shook her head. "No. Of course not. I knew the invitation was for everyone, and while you and the Princess were arguing..."

He nodded slowly, still watching her. "You never thought I'd allow the Princess to attend that dinner without me." He tipped his head back, sighed faintly, and then shook his head.

"You weren't supposed to still be on the ship," she whispered, and she reached up to rub her face, to rub at the tears she could feel welling up in her eyes. She couldn't cry in front of her Prince. He didn't need to bear her weakness in addition to everything else on his shoulders.

He nodded slowly, and for a moment, she thought that might have been everything that he needed, never mind that it still hadn't answered her question. Then he met her gaze again, and he said, his voice low, "You'd have died."

The words broke her composure, shattered it with an ease she'd never expected from him. She buried her face in her hands, and she sucked in a breath to try to steady herself before she managed, "It was the only way to disarm him. With me dead, Zhao would have no weapon against you. Against the Princess."

And if he'd thought she'd died setting up the blasting jelly, he'd have no reason to retaliate against her family. Against her parents. No reason at all to send her brother on a suicide mission for the army.

"That's why I trust you." He glanced down at her, and he sighed. "I really can't convince you to let me at least get you to the Princess? Zhao wouldn't take you from Sokka again, not with you awake and able to protest."

"We need to know what he's up to," she said softly, and she dropped her eyes to the floor. Her hands twisted in the blanket again, holding onto it so tightly that her knuckles ached. Staying with Zhao, encouraging him and risking this... that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to go back to Sokka, to sit with him and play his maid and watch as he reshaped everything he touched.

It just wasn't in her duties anymore. She had a mission, and much like her princess, it was Meili's turn to be a warrior for her people. Her hands tightened further, and she gasped as something heavy dropped onto the top of her head.

A glance up, and she realized it was Zuko's hand, and he'd closed his eyes for a moment. He was just touching her, his palm against the top of her head, and after a heartbeat, he ruffled her hair. She swallowed thickly, recognizing the motion as one that Iroh had done to her a few times, mostly in moments when he'd particularly approved of her. Tears pricked in the backs of her eyes, and the smile that touched her mouth was more real than she ever wanted to admit to.

"We need more warriors like you and the Princess," Zuko murmured, and he headed back to the door. He lifted his hand to the handle, then stopped, and he looked back at her. "Meili," he said slowly, "I appreciate your service to my name."

"My loyalty is and always has been yours, my Prince," she breathed, the words automatic. Rote. Ritual old as the Fire Lord's throne. Zuko's eyes closed, and he dragged in a breath before he nodded.

"What does Zhao have on you?"

Her breath hitched, then smoothed back out as she shook her head. "It doesn't matter, Prince Zuko," she murmured. "It's nothing I wouldn't give up to see the Nation you'll shape."

* * *

It was just as well that Meili hadn't taken him up on the offer to smuggle her into Sokka's room. No matter how easy it had been to hide on Zhao's ship— the sudden build of the fleet meant that no one really knew anyone else, and more importantly, so long as one walked with purpose, everyone assumed that duties had already been handed out. No one wanted to risk getting dragged into extra work when they all knew what was coming, and while the discipline among the soldiers was probably technically better than his own, Zuko missed his crew. He missed music night of all things, and it only served to irritate him when he realized it.

He watched Sokka's room with particular intensity, and while he could never get guard duty there (three guards seem to have taken it upon themselves to manage that, and Zuko couldn't risk them realizing who he was), he did manage to get a few duties near enough to keep an eye on the room.

Zhao didn't go to see his captive. Probably because Iroh kept him focused, talked tactics and military strategy and Pai Sho long into the night with him, and presumably, Meili distracted him the rest of the time. Zuko wasn't sure, and he couldn't bring himself to find out. The last thing he needed was to get caught, and worse, Sokka would have been without any guards at all if Zhao ever learned that Meili hadn't actually killed Zuko.

He finally got his chance a few days into the trip, when Sokka stormed out, a cloud of white fabric that caught everyone's attention, and his guards hurried after him. Zuko was glad he had the mask on his face, because it meant that no one could see the faint smile tugging on his lips. He didn't wait to see where Sokka was going, only darted into the room as soon as he was gone. He leaned back against the door, blew out a breath, and then reached up to dislodge his mask.

He didn't set it down, but his breath caught as he spotted the shrine set up in the room. He recognized the incense burning there. How many sticks and cones of it had he lit himself for his mother, for Iroh's son? For those men they'd sacrificed every time a unit was destroyed in battle—

He just hadn't thought...

The candles along the edges of the small shrine were unfamiliar. A Water Tribe note, perhaps, and he reached out to brush his fingers against one. Sokka had left everything lit, and judging from the wax across the desk, he kept them lit as best he could. Zuko's fingers trembled as he pulled his hand back, and he stayed there for some time, trying to picture Sokka kneeling in front of this, reciting prayers for him, trying to make sure—

A noise, and Zuko jerked before he focused again. He grabbed his mask and found a place to hide just under the edge of the bed. At least Sokka had a mattress and a low frame instead of just a roll on the floor. Zhao's insistence, Zuko was sure.

He sucked in a breath and held it as the door opened, and he listened to someone moving around. Sokka. He knew that whisper of fabric, knew the pace of those steps. Sokka shut the door behind him, and Zuko could hear the lock engaging as Sokka's guard resumed their post. No matter what anyone said about the Princess being a guest, Sokka was a prisoner. More-so here than he had been even on Zuko's ship so long ago.

Or no, it hadn't been that long ago, had it?

He shook his head very slightly, and when he heard Sokka kneel, he eased out from under the bed to check the room. Just Sokka. Zuko blew out his breath, his eyes closing for a moment in relief. When they opened again, he met Sokka's gaze, and Sokka reached up to shove a hand against his own mouth to keep himself quiet. His eyes flicked between the door and Zuko, and Zuko held up a hand as he hissed, "Shh."

Sokka fought with himself for a long moment. Zuko could see the war under his skin, muscles jumping and his eyes widening and narrowing again, and after the longest moment of silence that Zuko had ever lived through, Sokka's hand finally dropped down and he hissed, "You're _alive_?"

Zuko crossed the room, closing the distance between them, and he dropped down to kneel beside Sokka. "Yeah," he murmured, low as he could without whispering. Whispers carried louder that low conversation, especially on the metal ships of the navy.

"How? Meili said—"

"What I told her to. We couldn't let Zhao think I survived," Zuko interrupted, and he reached up to smooth back Sokka's hair, his fingers brushing against one of those hairpins that spilled down Sokka's back. The too-familiar chime made him smile very slightly, and Sokka turned his face into Zuko's hand. There was another moment of silence, and then Sokka pressed a soft kiss to Zuko's palm.

"You're alive," he breathed again, and Zuko tilted his head slightly. "Does Iroh know? You have to tell him—"

"He knows. Meili told him. I haven't been able to see him." Zuko shook his head, and he started to drop his hand. Sokka caught it however, kept it exactly where it was, and he rubbed his face against Zuko's hand slightly. He didn't seem to notice he was doing it, so Zuko shifted his weight to actually sit, and he tugged Sokka closer.

Sokka pushed in hard against Zuko's chest, arms locking around Zuko's middle like he might vanish any moment. "I thought... You couldn't have told me earlier?"

Zuko shook his head as he brushed Sokka's hairpin back, and he reached down to touch his fingers against Sokka's cheek. "First time I've been able to get to you. Your guards are... enthusiastic about their job."

Sokka snorted, and then he lifted his head enough to Zuko to see his face. The makeup there was just a little smudged, but what caught Zuko's attention was the tears he could see in Sokka's face. Tears. For him?

Sokka had never admitted to feeling anything, not even after Zuko's stupid confession at the inn. He hadn't considered that Sokka might actually...

Somehow, that twisted against the knowledge that Sokka had put up his memorial shrine, had been burning candles and lighting incense, maybe even saying prayers to help ease Zuko's soul and the journey he'd thought it was on. He'd never thought that he'd have anyone who cared enough for that. Iroh, certainly, but Zuko didn't fool himself. Iroh's prayers would bleed into those for his son until they became one and the same.

"They're the same guards I had last time."

Zuko nodded as he slid his thumb just under Sokka's eye, light and careful not to smudge his makeup more as he dislodged one of those tears. "I know," he murmured. "They're determined not to fail this time."

He could watch Sokka struggle not to argue, probably to insist that they hadn't failed at all, but Sokka knew what he meant. The three men were utterly focused on their mission, on proving that they were loyal and that they could handle these responsibilities. They'd gone so far as to fight duels for the right to guard the Princess again, and Zuko couldn't help but wonder what they'd think when Zhao eventually ordered them to hold Sokka down, restrain him.

"I saw the ship." Sokka's voice broke into those thoughts, and Zuko blinked as he looked back down at Sokka instead. "How did you survive that? It was in pieces and there was so much fire..."

Zuko managed a very small smile for that, and he tilted his head, meeting Sokka's eyes. "My shield's not as strong as it should be, but I can manage," he said. "Or did you forget?"

Sokka's lips parted for a second, and then he shook his head as he leaned back, pulling away from Zuko. "No, I... can't forget. Not here, at least. Have you seen the size of the fleet yet? I don't know how we're going to manage to sabotage this. Even if I do get to the engines..."

"We're going to be at the Pole soon. I've already got a boat lined up. I can get to the city." Zuko hesitated, and then, his voice was even softer as he asked, "Do you trust me?"

"I shouldn't," were the first words that left Sokka's lips, and Zuko had only felt that kind of force behind words twice before in his life.

He'd never thought that a Water Tribe boy pretending to be a Princess would have been able to leave him shocked and speechless the same way he had been when he'd found out his mother was gone. When he'd turned to face his father in the Agni Kai.

He couldn't drag air into his chest for a long moment, and when he finally did manage to, he nodded as he drew away. Standing was harder than normal, and his head spun as he straightened his back and squared his shoulders.

"We'll stop the attack with the sunset if Zhao has any sense at all. I'll leave for the city then."

"How long do you think they'll hold out?"

The words were quiet, soft and low, and Zuko looked back down at Sokka, who had moved enough to kneel in front of that shrine again. "The Water Tribe?" he asked, not entirely sure he understood the question.

"Your countrymen have gathered to lay siege to the last holdout of my people," Sokka said, and he leaned forward, reaching to light one of the candles that had gone out. Zuko did it for him before Sokka could touch it, and then he dropped back down to kneel beside Sokka with a sigh.

"The Northern Water Tribe has better defenses than the South ever did. Their city has extremely sturdy walls, and it's too close to the full moon for victory to be assured. The waterbenders will be strong, and more importantly, they have the Avatar with them." How many times had Zuko gone over this exact list in his head, all the while raging against Zhao's foolish, blind focus? He risked too many men this way. "There's no telling what he could inspire them to do." 

"They've withstood Fire Nation attacks before though," Sokka replied, looking up at Zuko, and Zuko couldn't bring himself to meet that gaze. He wasn't sure what Sokka was looking for from him, what he wanted Zuko to say. That the Water Tribe was undefeatable? People had said the same about the Air Nomads all those years ago. And no nation was undefeatable.

It was only a question of how many lives one was willing to throw at the walls. It was a question of how many became too many for the commanding officer to withstand. His own honored uncle had crumbled under the weight of those lives, but a man like Zhao...

"Admiral Zhao will slaughter my countrymen," he finally pointed out, and he focused on the candles, on breathing in time to the flicker of the flames. On feeling every breath and shift and twist of the glow. "He will throw them at the Water Tribe walls until he has no more left. Then, if the Water Tribe has not broken under him, he'll climb over their bodies and walk in himself."

He paused, and he braced himself as he turned his head to look at Sokka. "I don't plan on letting him get that far."

"What are you planning then? You don't... really plan all that much, Zuko."

Zuko shrugged faintly, helplessly. "The same thing I've been planning for the most part. Get to the Avatar. I can't take you with me though because I might have to swim. I'm not sure I could keep you warm without burning you."

For a long moment, Sokka simply looked at him, long enough that Zuko shifted under the weight of that look. Then Sokka reached out and grabbed Zuko by the front of his uniform. Pulled him in close.

"I shouldn't trust you. ... But I do." He kissed Zuko once, hard. More desperate and nervous than either of them could admit to. "Get to Aang, Zuko. Then come back here and get me."


	20. The Attack

Zuko didn't stay the whole night. He slipped out of the room in the wee hours, when Sokka's guards had started to faintly doze, when he could manage to get by them, and Sokka pretended that watching Zuko go didn't make him shake. When the sun came up, he realized that he hadn't slept at all, and he stood slowly. For a long moment, he stayed where he was, staring at candles and incense, wondering at how this had become his life, how he was completely reliant on—

No. He wasn't.

He turned to his trunk, ripping through the fabrics and dresses and books and all the other nonsense that Zhao had considered important for the Water Tribe Princess to have. He didn't stop until he found what he was looking for, the deep dark blues and cold silvers of the richest piece of fabric that he had. A dress he'd never worn, a dress he'd never brought himself to wear. The embroidery was so thick that the fabric was nearly stiff, and Sokka dressed himself carefully, knotting ties and adjusting layers. As many layers as he could manage. It took him longer to dress by himself, longer than that to get the hairpieces and hairpins in, but when he was done, he looked like the Princess he was pretending to be.

He couldn't wear white. Not on this day, not with the Fire Nation on the attack and the Water Tribe fending them off. Wearing white, mourning, would be too much of a victory for Zhao.

Every movement sent the bright notes of silver bells and glass beads cascading around him, and he patted the back of his hair carefully before he set to work on the makeup. Final touches, and his door opened just as he was finishing up.

Liang stood there, Delun just behind him, and his breath caught as he met Sokka's eyes.

"Princess," he said, and he jerked into a low bow. The motion wasn't as smooth as it had been before Sokka's escape, probably because of the injury Liang had withstood. The injury that they'd inflicted on him because of their lie, and even knowing that he was Fire Nation...

Sokka couldn't seem to convince himself that Liang had deserved it.

He lifted his head faintly, stood up, and crossed the room to the doorway. Delun passed a wrapped package to Liang, who hesitated, and Sokka smiled before he asked, his voice as gentle as he could manage it with his throat so tight, "Yes, Liang?"

"Princess, we... The Admiral is reassigning us during the assault. We're to lock you in and head on to our posts, but..." His hands tightened around the package, then he bowed again as he held it out. "We wanted you to have this."

Sokka frowned as he took it from Liang, and he stripped the dark paper and let it spill to the floor as he stared at the sword they'd handed him. The same narrow blade Meili had given him on the day of his escape attempt. The one he'd dropped in the forest because he hadn't had a sheath to keep it in.

It wasn't the jian that Zuko had given him, but the weight was decent, and one of them had found a sheath for it. He glanced up, but before he could ask, Delun said, "It's yours anyway, and we wanted..."

There was a long moment of quiet.

"We might be boarded," Liang finally said. "We wanted you to have it, just in case."

Sokka's eyes narrowed as he glanced back down at the sword. If they were boarded, it would be by Water Tribe warriors. Had they forgotten who he pretended to be, or were they simply worried that perhaps the warriors might not take kindly to a princess who had been publicly betrothed to the Prince of the Fire Nation? It wasn't exactly unreasonable. He nodded slowly.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"We'll see you this evening, Princess," Liang said, and then they shut the door, left him inside as they locked it. His hand tightened on the hilt of the sword, and he moved back over to sit on the edge of the bed. He had to force his hands to open, set the sword aside, and his eyes closed as he tried to feel the ocean all around him.

Every breath on this ship was guided by the waters, and it was the same water that had lapped at the ice at home. The same water he'd grown up with, the same water he'd fished in. It was the same water that Katara had soaked him in every time she'd tried to bend, and Sokka drew a deep breath, gritting his teeth.

The women of the village had prayed to the spirits, to the moon and the ocean spirits that supposedly guided them and shaped their world, but Sokka had never truly understood that. He'd never felt their presence in his world, had never been able to tell how they helped much of anything. Sure, he'd painted his warpaint on in the traditional patterns, invoking the strength of the tides and the endurance of the moon, but he'd done so more because that's how the paint went on than out of any sense of spirituality.

Now though...

_Let Zuko make it._

_Let Zuko make it, and let the others be okay, and let the Northern Water Tribe withstand—_

He turned his head as he heard the first shrill horn. The call for attack, and while they weren't at the front of the fleet, it meant that the assault had started. They were closing distance and they were preparing to launch those huge fireballs. He didn't have to try very hard to imagine the destruction they'd cause, to picture them ripping through snow and ice and blood and bone. He didn't have to try to remember the smell of human beings on fire. He didn't have to try to remember the screams—

His hand jerked on the bed, sent the sword clattering to the floor, and his eyes cracked open to look down at it. After a heartbeat, he slid off the bed, dropping down to his knees as he reached to pick it up, put it back.

He went still as he spotted the small bag Meili had packed for him before they'd left Zuko's ship for that damned dinner. He pulled it out— he didn't remember how it had gotten under there in the first place— and he took it with him as he curled up on the bed.

He unknotted the string that kept it closed, and he turned it up, spilling the contents carelessly on the blankets. Focusing on anything was better than the memories, and he stopped at the package that he'd never opened. Zuko had given it to him the same night he'd given him the sword, and Sokka had...

Well. To be perfectly honest, he'd forgotten about it. Between the lessons and Zuko being the Blue Spirit and everything else, he'd simply... not thought of the other gift. Meili clearly had though, and he stared at it, turning it over in his hands. He ripped the paper back finally, and his breath caught in his throat.

How Zuko had even found— 

Sokka pulled the boomerang from the paper, letting it flutter to the ground, forgotten. His fingers slid along the edge of the boomerang, and he was pleased to feel an edge there. It wasn't the same one he'd lost, the same one he'd left with Katara and Suki, but it was a weapon all the same, and more importantly, he wouldn't be relying on the lessons he'd had with Zuko to wield this one.

* * *

"If you are fishing for an octopus, my nephew—"

Zuko twisted around, glancing over his shoulder at his uncle as the door shut. He dropped the rope he'd been looping around one arm— the motion long practiced after the years on the ship— and he crossed the room, wrapping his arms around Iroh's shoulders.

A heartbeat passed before Iroh hugged Zuko back, and the motion was too sharp, too tight, just like it had been ever since Lu Ten... ever since Uncle Iroh had returned from the siege.

"Prince Zuko…"

"You don't have to say anything," Zuko said, and he squeezed his uncle just a little tighter himself, savoring this. Zuko's eyes closed, and he dragged in a breath. Then and only then did he pull away, looking back to the small boat he'd been preparing. "Be well, Uncle," he added, but Iroh held onto Zuko's sleeve, his fingers buried in the fabric. Zuko managed a very small smile before he carefully pulled himself away. His hand shook as he headed back and grabbed the rope again.

"Remember your breath of fire," Iroh whispered, and Zuko gave him a single sharp nod. "It may save your life. And keep your hood up—"

Zuko didn't let himself look back at Iroh. He couldn't. If he did, he felt like the pressure in his chest might snap, and there was too much riding on this, on him, to give in. He wasn't made of strong enough stuff for this, but he had to work with what he had. Determination had to be enough, like it always had been.

"I know, Uncle," he replied. "Keep my ears warm."

It had been a common enough refrain when they'd first boarded the ship all those years ago, when they'd left the Fire Nation, a disgraced prince and his honored but equally disgraced uncle, and the cold had wrapped around him and sank into his bones. Iroh had been the one who kept reaching over to pull his hood up when they stood on the deck. Iroh had been the one who had distracted him, day in and day out. Iroh had been the one…

"I'm sorry," he breathed, and he did look over at Iroh one more time as he stepped back into the boat. He wrapped the ropes around his hands for a second, nervous, terrified of actually saying what they'd never given breath to. "I'm sorry that I'm not L—"

"Don't," Iroh countered, the word sharper than anything Zuko had heard from his uncle in years. Zuko's shoulders went back automatically, bracing for the rebuke that had always accompanied such a tone back in the Palace. Then Iroh turned his head, and Zuko's lips parted as he realized that those were tears in his uncle's eyes. "Don't ever apologize for that. I think of you as a second son, not…"

Zuko's grip tightened on the rope, and he had to take another breath before he could nod again. Then he twisted his hands to let the loops fall free, and the rope slid, lowering him down toward the water so far below them. Iroh walked to the edge to watch him go, and Zuko called softly to him, "I'll see you again, Uncle."

He cut the ropes free when he touched the water, and Iroh tugged them up as Zuko pulled up the hood Iroh was always so worried over. He didn't let himself linger, but instead just pulled up the part over his nose and mouth as well, and he got the paddle free to start moving.

Getting between the Fire Nation ships was easy enough— none of them were looking for anything low in the water. Foolish of them, considering who they were fighting against, but maybe they simply thought the Water Tribe would be too busy organizing their defenses for the morning to send anyone out in the dark. But then again, it worked in his favor, and while he was fairly sure Iroh would have thought about it, his uncle couldn't have mentioned it to Zhao. If he had, there was no way Zuko could have gotten through.

He kept his attention ahead, watching what he could make out of the Water Tribe patrols, and while he hesitated behind a few icebergs, he managed to make it to the land just beside the wall eventually. He hauled himself out of the boat, drew it up close to the shore, and he watched the patrols from there for long enough that his fingers ached inside his sealskin mittens. A small burst of flame near his bare skin warmed them for a moment, but he didn't dare try much more than that. There were just too many patrols, too many waterbenders waiting, watching. There wasn't enough time to scale that wall between their passes. He slammed a hand into the snow, and he dropped his head for a second, sighing.

That was when he noticed the black in the snow. His brow furrowed as he reached down for a handful, and he rubbed it between his bare fingers.

_Are you familiar with the Southern Raiders?_

He dropped the snow, flexed his fingers, and he pulled his mitten back on with a sigh. He'd never noticed the snow turning black like that. He'd never considered it. But standing here on the shore, looking out at all the ships that had anchored just out of range of most projectiles… His hand tightened into a fist, and he turned his head to watch the barking turtle seals, unwilling to see his people that way. They weren't… this, were they? These were monsters that Sokka had always painted them as. His people created things. They had culture. They had poetry and song and dance, and they respected spirits that he knew weren't mentioned or revered anywhere else.

This invading force, this all-consuming army of them… That wasn't his people. That was the mockery of them that Zhao had created, that the Fire Lord had encouraged—

He blinked as he watched another turtle seal vanish into the ice. How many was that?

"Where are they going?" he murmured as he walked over to them, and he crouched down to try to look in the hole they had made. No. They hadn't made that. It was too neat, too precise, and there were ridges around the edges of the hole, places where ice had been bent back in ways it didn't normally form in.

Bending.

Some waterbender had made this, which meant… What? Did it matter? They had to be coming up for air somewhere, and even if this probably didn't lead into the capital itself, it might lead somewhere that the patrols weren't so heavy.

He didn't have to look to know another one of those patrols was coming, and he set to work. He blew a couple of bursts of flame, just enough to heat the air around him. The turtle seals leaned in, but they didn't seem overly alarmed by it. They didn't change their barking. Then he started tightening the straps at his ankles, at his wrists. He blew warm air down the front of his clothes, into his mittens, anywhere that could hold the heat, and then he drew a breath, and dove in.

The water was cold enough that he almost gasped, and he did stop moving for a heartbeat, his whole body screaming protest at this insanity. No matter what the Water Tribe thought, people weren't made for this kind of place. They weren't designed to live somewhere that the land and water around them tried to kill them. Then his muscles unlocked, relaxed into what he made them accept, and he could make himself move again, pushing through the tunnel.

He was shuddering by the time he made it to the turtle seals' den, and he collapsed on the ice for a moment. He had to breathe a few times, the air so cold that every time felt like knives were down his throat and in his chest, before he could finally get enough energy to blow a few more bursts of fire. The barking was incessant, but he glanced up at the turtle seals and managed a very faint smile for the sight of them, congregating around him. Like he was some stupid pup who didn't know how to swim yet.

He pushed himself to his feet and slid in between them as he studied the den they'd made. They'd had some help here, he'd have bet, because there were signs of bending in the ice everywhere. Layers of the ice were folded strangely, warped by powers that he had never truly confronted before meeting Katara. Then he spotted the gushing water.

Everywhere else was still, silent, but that water was flowing too fast, too hard to be from the ocean. The ocean didn't move that way without some help, and he knew exactly the sort of help that it took. He headed toward it, hand sliding across one turtle seal head on the way. He stopped just beside the water, and he clapped his hands together once, twice, trying to make sure that he could still feel his fingers. He blew more hot air into his clothes, into his mittens— the insides were still, miraculously, dry; he supposed that meant he'd have to thank his uncle for yet another thing once he finally saw him again. Uncle Iroh's fondness for collecting clothes of all types had paid off.

Then he started the climb, braced this time for the sudden shock of cold. Or so he thought.

The instinct to gasp was almost impossible to avoid, and only the fact that he knew he couldn't gave him the strength to ignore it. To swallow it back and force his body to move. He didn't have the time to stop, not when Sokka was still on that ship with Zhao, not when the Avatar needed to know whatever Zuko could tell him. He pushed on, until he was completely inside the tunnel, where the water was too strong to swim against, so he climbed.

And climbed.

Hands pressed flat against the ice on either side of him, water gushing hard enough in his face that it ripped his hood off.

It went on forever.

Dark. Cold.

It went on until his body was numb. The heat he'd managed to wrap himself in was gone, and his feet kept slipping out from under him, threatening to send him right back into that den with the turtle seals.

Muscles jerked. They spasmed against the cold in attempts to produce heat.

Any heat.

Anything to keep him moving, to keep him going.

Then he broke the surface, sucked in a couple of gasps of too-cold air. He'd only thought the air in the den was cold. He'd only thought those breaths felt like knives in his throat. They were nothing compared to this, to nearly sticking his face against the ice in an attempt to get enough clearance that he didn't suck in water. He ducked back under the surface, trying to see where he had to go next. One more gulp of air— the pocket of it already tasted stale— and then he dove back under. This time at least, he could swim.

So he swam, and he swam, the tunnel twisting under the ice. He forced himself to focus, to watch ahead, to concentrate. It was harder than it had been to concentrate, to make himself think about Sokka and Iroh and Meili and his crew, all trapped under Zhao's thumb. In the throes of Zhao's insanity. It was all simply so far away when he was in the water, surrounded by the ice. Then he spotted the bright spot ahead, the promise of light and heat.

They were both things he'd nearly forgotten.

He slammed into the ice, fists pounding against it, and he jerked his head as his body spasmed in the cold. His lungs were the only left that burned, and he had to fight to keep from accidentally inhaling the frigid water. He couldn't breathe fire here, couldn't warm himself, and the city was right there, just on the other side…

But waterbenders weren't the only ones who could shape ice.

He ripped off his mittens, wincing against the sudden shock of even more cold against his skin, and he let them fall as he splayed his hands against the ice. It took time for them to heat up enough, but the more heat he could feel off his palms, the more awake he was. The more everything mattered. The ice gave way, broke and cracked under his hands, and he hauled himself up out of the water with another shudder.

He couldn't stop the way his body trembled, couldn't stop the desperate heaving for air. He'd never realized how sweet air could taste over his tongue. He shifted slowly, getting his feet under him as he looked out of the newest tunnel of ice he found himself in. This one spilled straight into the city though, and Zuko shivered as he looked across. The city was gray, all the buildings and bridges covered in a thin layer of black soot, just like the snow outside had been.

He had never seen another capital city before, and for a long moment, he stood there in the mouth of that tunnel, braced with one arm against the ice, staring. His chest was still heaving. He licked his lips, realized that was probably foolish, and focused enough to blow another burst of fire to warm himself with. Then he lurched into motion, knowing he needed to find the Avatar. Suki. Katara. Any of them. He had to…

He wasn't even sure. Tell them where Sokka was, that much was certain. But what was he planning after that? He couldn't return home to claim his throne without the Avatar, couldn't offer them men or forces or anything else. His hands tightened into fists, and then he shook his head.

None of that mattered. What mattered was finding the Avatar.

The palace was the most obvious choice, but as he drew near, he thought he heard… His head turned, following the sound, and he abandoned that course of action to head to the small wooden door. He listened for a heartbeat against it, and then he slipped inside.

Heat. Blessed heat wrapped around him, and Zuko breathed it in, deep and greedy. He leaned back against the door for a moment, and then he looked across to the patch of green in the middle.

"Is he okay?" 

He didn't know that voice, but as he crept closer, he realized that it had to belong to the girl with white hair that stood near Katara.

"He's crossing into the Spirit World. He'll be fine as long as we don't move his body. That's his way back to the physical world." Katara shifted her weight, and it was so like Sokka's movements that Zuko had to stop for a second.

The other girl frowned as she looked over at Katara, and she nodded toward another pathway that Zuko hadn't noticed. "Maybe we should get some help?"

"No." Katara folded her arms across her chest, her eyes on the Avatar. Aang. It was her tone that sent shivers down Zuko's back though, because he'd heard that exact note in Sokka's voice. She was resolved. Firm. Unyielding and stubborn as any Earth Kingdom native Zuko had ever had to deal with. "I am a warrior of the Southern Water Tribe, and this is my duty. He's my friend. I am capable of protecting him."

"It would be easier with two," he called as he stepped on the wooden bridge that led to them. The white-haired girl shrank back, gasping, but Katara only flicked her eyes to the side to look at him. A very faint smile touched her lips.

"You'd better have—" She hesitated, and then she turned to look at him, her shoulders squared, chin lifted. "You have the princess with you?"

"I can tell you which ship the princess is on," he countered, holding up both of his hands. "And I… I've come to help."

Katara was quiet as she studied him, and Zuko wasn't entirely sure what she was seeing. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. She looked at him in a way that Sokka didn't anymore, like perhaps she was weighing something and found him wanting. But then she nodded, and her gaze went right back to Aang.

"Princess Yue," she breathed, "could you go get Suki?"

"Is that..?"

Zuko placed both hands together as he bowed. It was more formal than he'd have been otherwise, but somehow, the situation seemed to call for it. Katara smiled faintly for it as she nodded.

"Princess Yue, meet Prince Zuko."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I did release a small Silk [fanmix](http://traxits.tumblr.com/post/144886374172/silk-soundtrack-v10) on my tumblr! Nothing like, super impressive or downloadable though. It's just a list of songs I frequently write Silk to. ^^;


	21. Retrieval

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I played a little fast and loose with canon timeline here. Mostly in the sense that at a few points, it was very strangely paced, so I applied some logic about Arctic days/nights and just... went for it.

Zuko and Katara both stayed silent until Princess Yue had left, running as quickly as she could in those skirts, and Zuko spared the briefest thought for the simple fact that Sokka's Southern Water Tribe princess looked nothing at all like Yue's Northern. Then Katara's weight shifted, and her hands shook loose, fingers arching and wrists—

"You found a master," he said, tilting his head as he watched her. He stayed where he was, but instinctively, he twisted his feet slightly, digging into the ground so that he could catch himself, could move if she attacked him. She had shifted back half a step, taking her that little bit further from where Aang sat, eyes closed, tattoos glowing a brilliant blue that Zuko had never seen anywhere else. His eyes narrowed. "You've learned more."

Her lips quirked into a small smile, self-confident in ways she hadn't been the last time he'd seen her. "You have no idea. Sokka. Sokka's safe?"

There was a tension in her that told Zuko what the correct answer was, and his arms hung beside him, loose and easy, he studied her. "No," he said, and he leapt to the side to avoid the whip of the water she snapped at him. He didn't have to look at the moon to know that fighting her here, now, like this, was a stupid plan. But then again, it had never been in the plan.

"What are you doing here then? You should be with— with Sokka, not here, not—"

"We have to get Sokka off the ship. I couldn't do it alone." Purposely, Zuko made himself drop out of the forward stance he'd fallen into the minute she attacked. There was too much at stake for him to bait her, no matter how much part of him wanted to do exactly that, wanted to test her and fight her just to get rid of some of the skin-crawling tension in him.

"So you what, ran off?"

"Sokka said—"

"Sokka's an idiot!"

The water slammed into him again, and this time, Zuko wasn't prepared for her to lift him clear off his feet with it, freeze everything around him and pin him against the wall. He bared his teeth in a snarl, and his hands tightened into fists before he caught himself. He couldn't outbend her. Not yet.

"Sokka is the idiot who thought—" Her voice cracked, and Zuko stopped fighting the ice just long enough to really look at her. Her lips pressed together, and he could see that tremor in her fingers, no matter how lax she looked, ready keep fighting. "You promised," she finally said, and her eyes lifted to meet his. "You promised you'd keep Sokka safe."

Zuko jerked against the ice. It didn't help. He didn't go anywhere, and the ice didn't even groan against him. But under the force of that expression, under the betrayal he could see in her face… "Zhao tried to kill me," he said. His voice was lower than it had been, finally saying the words aloud. He'd been avoiding it thus far, avoiding it with the same insistence that he'd avoided the idea that it had been his father that he'd faced in that duel. The words scraped something hollow inside of him, and the edges of them pressed against a wound he hadn't realized was still there. But at the same time, Zhao having tried to kill him meant that he was more of a threat than he'd ever considered himself. "The safest thing for Sokka was for Zhao to think he succeeded."

"Zhao did? But… you're both—"

"Prince Zuko!" The new voice broke into Katara's thought, and Zuko twisted as much as he could to see Suki running up, one of her hands on Yue's elbow to tug her along. Yue huffed for breath as Suki finally slowed down, and the princess pressed one palm against her side. Suki met his eyes. She still wore that green uniform, and she stared at him for a moment before she spun on Katara. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure he stays put," Katara countered. Zuko's lips twitched, but he didn't let himself smile. He'd been wrong, when he'd thought she was as stubborn as an Earth Kingdom native. There was no earth behind those words. Only ice. Ice that he knew a good deal more intimately after his foray into the city.

"I thought…" Yue dragged in a breath as she made herself straighten up. "I thought he was an ally. If he's dangerous—"

Suki laughed faintly, and she offered Yue a wide grin. "Oh, he's dangerous, Princess Yue. That's not the question."

Yue waved a hand, dismissing the smile that Suki wore. "Okay, fine, what is then? He's betrothed to Princess of the Southern Water Tribe. If that's not an ally—"

"I am an ally," Zuko said, interrupting her. Yue turned to look up at him, and she didn't see the way Katara had tensed for the mention of Sokka. Of their betrothal, and the danger it had put Sokka in.

Suki tilted her head, raised an eyebrow, and she crossed her arms over her chest as she looked up at him. "You did burn down my village and kidnap— ah… The Princess."

"I also freed the Avatar," a jerk of his head indicated the bald, glowing monk across the oasis, "from Zhao. That's treason in my country, and where were you and—"

"Enough." Yue's voice was firmer than he'd expected, and that, more than her actual word, was what silenced him. Judging from the way Suki unfolded her arms, she felt the same way. Yue sighed as she reached up to rub her forehead. "You are all so complicated. The legends are never this complicated."

"We're not legends, Princess Yue," Zuko bared his teeth at the thought, and enough heat rolled off him that it melted just a little of the ice Katara had trapped him in. "We're people." He glanced past her once more, looking at the Avatar. So still. Quiet. Like none of this mattered, like he was in a completely different world.

Then again. He was, wasn't he? And he'd come back changed, the same way Uncle Iroh—

"Kids. Some of us are just kids," he breathed.

There was a crack of ice, and Katara shifted, her hands rising again, her fingers flexing as she looked at him. "Not all of us. Where's my—" Her lips pressed together, cutting off the word, and then she drew a breath to ask, "Where's Sokka, Zuko?"

A shudder ran through him, and he coughed before he shook his head. "Zhao's ship. The one with the black banner over the Fire Nation flag. Sokka's being kept in one of the guest rooms, just down the hall from the commanding officer's quarters."

"Your quarters?" Suki sighed when Zuko nodded, and she reached up to rub her fingers against her temples. The motion smudged the pristine white face-paint there, but Zuko didn't think she cared. "I'll get him," she murmured. "I'm going on this suicide mission of Hahn's anyway." With that she dropped her hand, and she reached to take one of Yue's hands in both of hers. "Princess Yue, please stay with Katara this time. She's supposed to be—"

"—Guarding me, I know." Yue tilted her head, smiled, and she pulled her hand back from Suki's after just a heartbeat. "Be safe, Suki."

"As much as I can be." Suki turned to leave, stopped, and after a moment, she called, "Katara. What are you going to … do?" She looked back over her shoulder and met Zuko's eyes. "With him?"

"I'll figure it out. Go. Get Sokka back."

They all watched Suki go, and Zuko could feel the sun, straining at the edges of the darkness still cloaking the sky. He twisted his hands just enough to test, and there was a small burst of smoke this time. Enough heat for him to feel it. It wouldn't be long. Soon enough, the world would shift, and Katara would grow weaker as he grew stronger.

That was when Zhao would attack again. They all knew it. The sun that promised him power would be the death of these people, the destruction of this city. Only Ba Sing Se had withstood the full force of the Fire Nation military.

"Let him down, Katara," Yue's voice was quiet. She stepped in closer to the ice, looking up at Zuko, and Zuko would have drawn back from the intensity of her expression if he could have. There was something eerie under it, something that made him think of Iroh. Of the Avatar.

"Princess Yue, he is not—"

"He's shivering," Yue said, and before Zuko could figure out if she was right or not, the ice melted, gushing down and leaving him in the water that flowed on either side of the island. He coughed sharply, then shook his head and swam back to land. When he hauled himself up onto the grass, Yue's hand brushed against his elbow. He jerked back from her, and there, he could feel it. The shudders, the same spasming that he'd endured under the ice.

He coughed again, and he turned away from Yue and Katara both to focus, to channel his energy and get his stupid clothes dry again.

"Convenient," Katara said, watching him, and he blew just a couple of breaths of fire to heat the air around him a little more.

"I manage," he replied.

"Yeah. You always do. Come on. Sit down. Warm up. We're going to have a long day ahead of us."

* * *

Sokka did not sleep that night. He paced. He slid the sword from its sheath, put it back, and then drew it again, all in preparation for what he was going to do the moment he had the opportunity. He pressed his ear against the door and listened, heard when Zhao and Iroh both walked by, voices low as they discussed tactics. He paced more, and then, when he could stand it no longer, he started breaking things.

It wasn't exactly the behavior of a princess, and certainly wasn't the sort of behavior he'd so carefully cultivated for Zhao to expect of him, but so help him, knocking things down and ripping down the tapestries from the wall made him feel better. And anything was better than the scream he could feel bubbling up in the back of his throat. He was trapped, a token for Zhao to remember eventually, a piece in a game that he barely understood, but so help him, he'd show them what it meant to be a warrior of the Southern Water tribe.

By the time he was done, he heaved for air, every muscle in his body tense and locked, and the only thing that remained intact was the shrine that he kept candles lit on. Zuko's shrine. Zuko's—

He dropped down to kneel before it, and he lit the incense, then stared at the flame on the candle for a moment. A fire wouldn't be advisable, not with his guard no longer on the door, not with no one there to 'rescue' him. But it was something to keep in mind for later. Burning alive wasn't the most appealing of his options, but he'd do anything if it meant that Zhao couldn't use him against the Water Tribe. Against Aang. Against Katara.

When the dawn finally broke the horizon, he made himself stand. He found his mirror, and he straightened up his makeup. He didn't bother to change his clothes. He took down his hair for a heartbeat, just to look at himself, just to try to see—

He could barely remember the days before this. Before his being a warrior meant silk and gold and jingling hairpins that cascaded down his back. It wasn't even that long ago though, was it? He bit his lip, and then he reached up and pulled the top part of his hair back into a loose tail. Wolf's tail. But he wasn't a wolf these days. His eyes closed as he drew a breath. Two.

These days, he'd been fashioned into something different. Something more than just a wolf to bark and growl and snarl.

Another breath.

He let his hair go, then he picked up the comb he'd broken in half earlier, used it to straighten his hair back out, and dropped it on the floor before he set to work. The rolls and twists and pins of the Fire Nation were more familiar to him than anything he'd ever seen Katara wear, and some part of him chafed at that. His hair simply wasn't long enough to wear Katara's styles though. He pinned everything carefully, and he set to work with his hair pieces.

_Silk for the brave blood that flows through the warrior's veins. Gold for honor._

He smiled, soft and slow, at his own reflection, and his hand slid down from his hair to wrap his palm over the crook of his shoulder. A stranger stared back at him, a princess that he didn't know. A princess with the power to reshape the world. He studied her there for another moment, and then he reached out and touched a finger against her cheek in the mirror.

"I guess that makes me your guard," he breathed. "I've never… really guarded anyone before."

But that wasn't true. He'd spent his whole life guarding his village because there was no one left. He'd spent every waking moment preparing defenses or stockpiling food or trying to remember what little he could about fighting to teach the other kids there, no matter that they were even younger than he'd been. He'd thought he'd been teaching them to fight the Fire Nation. But sitting here, in the middle of this attack force, knowing what he knew about Zhao and the Fire Nation, he realized that he'd been wrong.

He'd been teaching them to die.

His finger slipped down and off the glass, and he watched as the smile faded off the princess's face. She looked sad. Resigned.

"I'm sorry," he said, but before he could say anything else, before he could figure out just why he was apologizing to his own reflection, he jerked back and glanced over his shoulder. He could hear something, some kind of muffled movement. His eyes narrowed, and he pushed himself up, his hand wrapping around one end of the boomerang. Then he thought better of it, tucked it into the sash around his waist, and grabbed the hilt of his sword instead. He crept over to the door, his ear not quite flat against it as he listened.

There was silence long enough that he almost thought he'd imagined it, and then someone grabbed the handle of his door and jiggled it. His breath caught, and he pulled the sword out an inch. When the door finally opened, he lunged, sword drawn and the edge pressing against the throat of a man he didn't recognize.

"Sokka!"

He blinked, hesitating for only a heartbeat before he looked over to see Suki. She stood there in her green uniform, white face-paint and gold headdress both glinting in the light of the torches. He focused on the man he'd pushed back against the wall— the boy. He wasn't much older, if any, than Sokka was. Sokka drew back slowly, tilting his head as he studied them.

"You… weren't who I was expecting," he finally managed, and then he shook his head. "No, it doesn't matter. We have to go. We can't stop the fleet from here—"

"We're not here for you. We're here to kill Commander Choi," the boy said, and Sokka rolled his eyes before he sighed and sheathed the sword. He looked over at Suki, mouthed 'Choi?' and watched her shrug.

"Then you're an idiot," he said. "It can't be done from here. Admiral _Zhao_ would kill you before you ever got close enough, and even if you managed it, there's a chain of command in place. Other commanders would step up to take his spot."

"Other commanders will know that it's suicide, attacking the Water Tribe here—"

Sokka shook his head as he turned to face Suki. Ignoring the idiot she'd brought with her was his best option here. "It won't be enough to kill Zhao. They will breach the city today. It's what they're pressing forward for." He hesitated a second, and then he sighed. "They'll use the front ends of the ships to pierce the wall. It's what they did back home, back when we still had some kind of defenses—"

"We aren't some bunch of Southern rubes!"

Sokka spun on his heel and his fist connected with the boy's chin. That surprised him more than the actual violence did. He glanced down at his hand, wondered why it had never been so easy to catch Zuko off guard, and then he met the boy's eyes. "No," he said sharply, raising his chin as he flexed his fist. "You're apparently a bunch of idiots."

Suki snorted behind him, and she caught him by the wrist. "Princess," she said, her voice easy, "we have to go. Hahn has his own mission here. I only came for you."

Sokka let Suki pull him back half a step, and then he finally nodded. "Fine. Say hello to Zhao for me." A too-sharp smile curved Sokka's mouth at the thought of Zhao's expression when he heard that his princess was missing, vanished right off the ship. It would serve him right. Everyone knew that trying to hold the Water Tribe while at sea was a foolish effort. "Tell him thank you for the hospitality," he added, rolling the word in his mouth, and then he turned on his heel to leave with Suki. Hahn was still sprawled in the hallway, one hand on his face as he watched them go.

They were both quiet as Suki led him through the ship, sneaking in between the passes of soldiers, and Sokka's hand stayed so tight on the hilt of that sword that his knuckles ached. Screamed. He was too tense to actually pull the damn thing if he needed to use it, but he couldn't stop it. There was too much riding on this, riding on everything. He'd never felt that pressure like he did now, and how had Zuko lived with this every day since his father had become Fire Lord?

Eventually, they made it to the small boat Suki and Hahn must have brought with them, and Suki signaled to the man waiting there as they dropped down into it. A bender, Sokka realized, because there were no paddles handy, but the boat moved all the same, and not with the water. He swallowed as Suki gave him a hand to help him down, clearly recognizing that the dress he wore was not like hers, had never been intended for this kind of thing. She sank down beside him, and as they pulled away from the ship, he murmured, "I lost the uniform you gave me."

She frowned as she looked over at him, and he didn't try to look back. He kept his eyes ahead, on the wall, on the Northern Water Tribe he was going to see. He had never expected that his first time meeting anyone from the North would be while pretending to be some fictional princess. She nodded though— he could see the movement out of the corner of his eye— and she sighed.

"I figured."

"… I had it until the ship exploded."

She drew a breath, and Sokka shook his head.

"We're fine. Iroh and I weren't on the ship." And if she'd come to get Sokka, then she'd probably already seen Zuko. Sokka wasn't about to mention him by name in front of someone else though, and he finally pulled his gaze away from the wall to look at her. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he frowned, cutting his eyes to the side to indicate the bender in the boat with them. Her lips tightened, then she gave him a single, sharp movement that could barely be called a nod. "I'll make it up to you somehow," he said.

"It was a spare. Don't worry about it. Besides." She smiled, wide and easier than Sokka had expected to see on anyone's face. "I like your new uniform."

Sokka flushed, and he stared at her, watching her grin, before he jerked his attention back to the wall. They said nothing else until they arrived, and she grabbed him by the hand and took him through the city without giving him so much as a moment to even look at it. The Fire Nation ships were close behind them though, and there was simply no time. They both ran, one of Sokka's hands full of his skirts as he tried not to trip on them. She avoided every bender that he spotted, and he wondered for half a second why before he realized: if a bender stopped them, he'd probably be dragged before the Chief, and there wasn't time for that. He needed to be with Aang, needed to help the Avatar with anything Aang needed.

There was a small wooden door that she pushed him through, and he didn't have time to marvel over the fact that it was wood— real wood, and not just battered driftwood— before the heat blasted him in the face.

His lips parted, instinctive as the gasp that inevitably escaped when diving into frozen water—

"Sokka!"

"Katara!"

He pulled free of Suki and ran full force to catch Katara when she lunged for him. He couldn't stop the burst of laughter that her weight knocked from him, and he wrapped his arms around her hard, pressing his face into her hair for a heartbeat. She was warm, safe, and there was something about the whole thing… his chest was so tight that he thought his heart might be trying to burst from the pressure.

"Katara," he breathed, and he squeezed her before he pulled back to really look at her again. "You look… Are you okay? You and Aang?" He reached up to brush his fingers against her hair-loopies, a helpless smile on his face. She laughed, nodded, and she reached out to brush down the front of his dress, smoothing him back out.

"Yeah," she whispered, and she leaned forward to press her forehead against his. Then she turned, stepped to the side, and his breath caught.

Zuko sat on the grass (grass, there was grass at the North Pole, and who'd have guessed?), and he looked worse than he had yesterday. Tired. Worn down, so much like the princess in the mirror that Sokka couldn't help but go to him. He dropped down to kneel beside Zuko, and he smiled faintly.

"Thank you."

Zuko's eyes widened, and he looked past Sokka to Katara before he shook his head. "We have an agreement," he said, and the words were so very Zuko that Sokka laughed.

"Yeah. Yeah, we have an agreement. … What's Aang doing?"

Katara reached down, her hand on Sokka's shoulder as she pointed toward Aang. "He's meditating. Contacting the Spirits to get some back-up. We can't take out the army by ourselves, Sokka, not unless you have some kind of idea."

Sokka tilted his head, studying Aang for a second. Then another girl cleared her throat, and Sokka frowned, realizing for the first time that they weren't alone.

"But with the Southern Water Tribe Princess and the Fire Nation Prince here," the girl said, "surely the two of you have some ideas. Between you and the Avatar… There's a plan. Right?"

Sokka hesitated, and then he nodded faintly. "Maybe. I know where the engine rooms are on the ships, and we can…"

"No," Zuko replied. He reached up to rub the heel of his palm against his forehead. "We can't just blindly cause the deaths of all those men—"

"They're going to blindly cause the deaths of my people," the girl countered. "If it comes down to us or them…"

"We need to take out Zhao. There's a possibility that without Zhao, I can rally the men, maybe…"

"Some of them will follow you," Sokka finally said, thinking about Liang, Delun, and Enlai. Thinking about Lieutenant Jee. There were men within the Fire Nation military who still trusted their prince. "But not all of them. They're caught up in this."

"I will not endorse the slaughter of my people," Zuko said, his teeth gritting.

"Neither will I," the girl said.

Katara sighed. "Then we'd better hope Aang comes back with a solution."


	22. Duties

Katara resumed her guard near Aang. It was safer than staying over there with Sokka and Zuko, watching the way her brother was a stranger, a sister she'd never met, around the prince. Yue and Suki had drifted away as well, and Katara set her jaw as she watched Aang, trying to make herself breathe in time with his slow and steady breaths. It was nothing at all like the way he bent air, but there was something reassuring behind that connection with him. She wondered, her eyes darting over to the side to peek at Sokka and Zuko all over again, if Sokka didn't feel the same way.

She swallowed, and when Sokka stood, she jerked her attention back, straightening her spine. He walked over to her, and without so much as even a word, he draped over her shoulders, one arm heavy against her as he pulled her in close again. Her eyes squeezed closed as she sank into that hug. He smelled like smoke.

He'd only ever smelled like smoke once before, and she opened her eyes so that the memory could wash through her without dragging her with that tide. Those waters were too deep for her to fall in when so much was at stake.

"Hey," she murmured. She could feel the weight of gazes on them, but when she turned her head, everyone else had carefully averted their faces. Suki had ahold of Yue's arm again, as though she was scared Yue might up and vanish. The way Sokka had. Suki still hadn't forgiven herself for Sokka being the one to stay behind. It was just as well; in some corner of her heart, Katara wasn't sure she'd forgiven her either.

"Hey," he said, but it wasn't her brother's voice. It couldn't be, because no matter how much she wanted to pretend that it was just them and Aang again, no matter how much she wanted to pretend he wasn't standing there as some fake princess, she couldn't. They weren't alone, and Yue... Well. Yue was a real princess.

She had duties, responsibilities to her people, and it wouldn't have been fair to expect her to keep Sokka's secret. Just like it wouldn't have been fair to expect the Northern Water Tribe to help when—

"You okay?"

Her breath hitched as she looked up at him, and she smiled before she nodded. "I'm fine," she said. "Should be asking you that question, I think."

He grinned, and her own smile softened, something tight in her loosening for that expression on his face. Her brother, loose and easy and teasing, really was under there, and she hadn't realized that some part of her had doubted it. Not until she saw the proof right there.

"Nah," he replied, and his voice pitched lower as he glanced over his shoulder. When he spotted Yue across the oasis, he relaxed, and he pulled away some, just enough that he was standing beside her instead of half draped over her. That was more normal, but she didn't want him that far away. Not when he'd been gone for so long. She shifted her weight so that her shoulder brushed against his, and his grin widened slightly. "I'm fine, Katara. You're the one traveling with the Avatar and all. I have a bodyguard."

"A crap one. He shouldn't have left you on that ship—"

"He didn't have a choice. No way we'd have both gotten into the city without a waterbender." Sokka sighed as he glanced back toward Zuko, and Katara frowned as she watched the way he looked at the prince.

"You... like him," she breathed, and Sokka snapped his attention back to her, his brow furrowing. Her lips parted on a low gasp, and she wrapped her hand over his shoulder to keep him from turning away from her. "You can't, he's the Prince of the Fire Nation. He's—"

Sokka shook his head, and not even the flash of gold or the tiny tinkling of the pins in his hair could distract her from the tension in the corners of his mouth. It was the same tension she saw there when they talked about their mother or when he would tell her stories about the men of the tribe before they'd left. "I know," he said, but his voice was too soft, and while he didn't pull away from her, he glanced past her toward Aang. "I know," he repeated, firmer this time. "Don't worry about it. I'm... handling it."

"Oh, Sokka..." Her lips pressed together, and Katara nodded finally. "Just... Be careful." She leaned over against him, her hand sliding down his arm, and she was suddenly grateful that they were in the oasis and not somewhere else. He wasn't dressed for this city, in nothing but silks and sheer fabric that she'd never seen the likes of up close. She swallowed, glanced up at his face again, and she smiled. "Have you slept at all?"

She already knew the answer. It was in his face, in the tension that she could feel in his arms. It was the endless sunlight finally starting to wear on all of them near the end of summer. It was still summer back home, and while they didn't have the constant days plaguing them, they had firebenders all the same. Some things never changed.

Sokka's mouth twisted into that lopsided smile, the same one that had always driven her crazy, but it fit oddly on his face now.

"Yeah, I know. It's a dumb question." She patted his arm, then nodded toward Zuko, who looked like he might nod off at any minute. Again. He'd been dozing ever since Katara had let him down. "Go over there and nap with your hypothermic fiancé. He'll be lucky if he doesn't lose anything from his swim into the city."

"He— of course he swam. Why am I even surprised?"

"Sokka," she said, and she bit her lip as Sokka stopped and looked back at her. The question on the tip of her tongue wasn't one she'd ever thought she'd ask, but… "Zuko said… Can I trust him?"

Sokka's lips parted, and he hesitated before he answered. She could watch him thinking, see the way his instinct struggled against whatever he'd learned about the Prince after staying with him for so long. It was a few heartbeats before Sokka nodded.

"I think so. So long as it doesn't come down to us or his people." His voice was _his_ again for those words, and Katara swallowed. She'd thought hearing his voice again would be a comfort. Would make all of this better somehow.

It didn't.

She nodded, and she pulled back from him to look at Aang once more. "Make sure he rests. We'll probably need him."

* * *

Zuko tried to meditate. Tried being the key word there because all he seemed to do was focus on the low murmur of voices across the oasis. Suki and Yue were talking about the invasion, and Sokka and Katara were…

He kept his eyes closed, dragged in another breath, and tried not to listen to them. He focused instead on the steady rhythm of the battle for the capital. The oasis was removed from it in a way that Zuko hadn't put his finger on though, because even when he was listening for the slam of ships into the wall, he couldn't hear them. Not clearly.

And the whole place had a strange feel to it, as though he stood in the middle of a doorway, one foot in each room. Something soft skated along his arms, made the hair on his skin rise sharply, and his eyes snapped open as he shivered. Sokka was already walking toward him, and he tipped his head back to look up as Sokka stopped in front of him.

"You get her calmed down?" he asked, more because he knew Sokka was more comfortable talking than because he wanted to know. He could tell Katara had calmed for Sokka's presence. For Sokka's reassurance that she could trust Zuko.

He had tried not to eavesdrop. Clearly, he hadn't been successful.

"She's fine." Sokka smiled as he shrugged. "I'm under orders for a nap while I can apparently."

Zuko nodded slowly, and then he patted the ground beside him. "Come on then. The grass is soft." When Sokka hesitated, glancing back toward the door they'd come through, Zuko snorted. "I'll keep you safe if… when—"

"Right, because you're the perfect guard, exhausted from that swim." Sokka sighed as he sank down into the grass though, and he looked up at Zuko for a moment before he shook his head. "Let me see your hands."

Zuko frowned. "My…" But he held out his hands anyway, and Sokka took them and turned them over. His fingertips were as callused as Zuko's were. "What are you doing?"

There was a tremor in Sokka's hands, and Zuko tilted his head as Sokka refused to look up at him. Instead, Sokka just kept inspecting Zuko's fingertips, pinching them and squeezing them. Looking for something, but what—

"Making sure you don't have frostbite," Sokka finally muttered, and he still didn't look up. "Are your shoes dry?"

Zuko smiled very faintly, and he twisted his hand in Sokka's hold to push his fingers in between Sokka's. "They're fine." He squeezed Sokka's hand, and then he added lowly, "I'm fine, Sokka. … Come here." He tugged on Sokka's hand, and Sokka balked for a heartbeat, but he finally looked up. Zuko raised an eyebrow, and Sokka glanced back over his shoulder toward his sister. Katara was watching Aang again, as though she could somehow see what he was doing if she studied him intently enough. Then Sokka shifted and pressed in against Zuko's side, tucking slightly under Zuko's shoulder.

Zuko left his hand in Sokka's so that Sokka could keep inspecting if that was what he wanted.

"I don't know how to fix this," Sokka breathed, and the words were so soft that Zuko barely heard them. Sokka looked up to meet his eyes, and all trace of that smile he'd seen when Sokka was around Katara was gone. "I don't know how to save everyone."

Zuko's breath caught in his throat. "What?" he finally managed, and it took so much strength to keep from touching the side of Sokka's face, to keep from being quite that open.

Sokka sighed, and he shook his head as he looked back down at their hands. "I'm the plan guy. That's my thing. Plans." A shiver ran through him as he squeezed Zuko's hand slightly. "But I don't have one for this."

"You can't plan for everything. You can't..." Zuko sighed as he shook his head, and he did reach up then. His fingertips brushed against Sokka's face, tucking a loose piece of hair back behind his ear. "Sometimes you just have to focus on what's right ahead."

Sokka swallowed, turning his face into Zuko's hand for just a second. His eyes closed, then opened again before he managed a very slight smile. "... Sometimes what's right ahead isn't what's going to kill you though. It's the fallout."

"We'll handle the fallout later. We have an arrangement, remember?"

"Yeah. You and your princess—"

"No." Zuko shook his head as he dropped his hand back down. He leaned in, touching his forehead to Sokka's so that he had the excuse to close his eyes. "We do. Zuko and Sokka." He drew a breath, held it for a second, then blew it out. Then he added, "Not the banished prince and the fictional princess."

It was strange, adding those words, admitting that. But it was true.

* * *

It was rude to stare. Yue knew that. But, all the same, she kept finding herself staring, watching the Prince with his Southern Princess. They had finally stopped talking for a moment, and they stayed leaned against each other, foreheads touching.

It was intimate enough to make her blush, but she sneaked peeks over at them anyway, all the way up until she finally crossed the oasis to stand near Katara. She glanced down at the fish in the pond, watching them swim, watching them dart around and around each other, and then she asked softly, "He really cares for her, doesn't he?"

Katara jerked, glancing over at Yue, and then back toward the princess. They looked enough alike that Yue was almost certain that the princess was her sister, for all that Katara had never called her that. Perhaps Southerners were strange about the title. Yue hadn't even known for sure that they had princesses, let alone that their princesses had enough power to make alliances on behalf of their tribe.

Knowing that made something rough scrape along her, tightened the bonds of duty in ways she'd never felt before.

Katara cleared her throat, and she looked back at the Avatar again. "He... something. Maybe." Then Katara's voice softened as she added, "I hope so."

Yue tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly for those words. She nodded faintly. "He certainly seems to." Instinctively, she reached up to touch the necklace she wore, her fingers stroking against the token in the middle. Hahn's carving, her promise to wed him as soon as she was of age and he'd proven himself. Not that there were many young men to pick from, to be honest; not with the war. "She's not wearing her necklace. Is there... some kind of problem with their engagement?"

"Necklace?" Katara raised an eyebrow. "What kind of necklace?"

"Her... You don't do betrothal necklaces?" Yue's hand drifted down, tugging her collar down so that Katara could see hers. Katara's eyes widened, and she swallowed thickly before she shook her head.

"No. No, not... I don't know. There's no one to be engaged to back home. Sokka and I were the only ones the same age. Or even close, honestly." But Katara's hand crept up, her fingers brushing against the side of her throat, just above a narrow string of beads. There was a flower in the middle of the necklace, but it wasn't anything at all like Yue's. "No one mentioned anything about a necklace."

Maybe it simply hadn't come up then, if the only two of comparable age were sisters. Or maybe the Southern Water Tribe was more different than Yue had ever considered.

"She's nothing at all like what I expected," Yue said, smiling. It was easier than pressuring about the necklace, especially with Katara's hand still against her neck.

"Who? My— the Princess?"

Yue could feel her brows drawing together, and then she nodded. "Yeah. She's… so vibrant." She looked back at the prince and princess again. Their eyes were closed, and she decided after just a moment that they had probably dozed off. They were only both upright because of how they sat, leaning against each other. She'd seen that kind of thing in the few paintings they had in the palace, but it was a little surreal, to see it replayed in the middle of the Spirit Oasis. She could feel ripples through the air, something echoing through all of them.

The Oasis was so close to the Spirit World that one had to be careful of everything that was done here. Spirits had an interest in the lives of those touched by destiny. Yue knew that better than most.

She swallowed, and then she managed a little laugh. "Sorry, that's probably weird."

"No," Katara murmured, and she smiled. "It's not weird. Sokka's been like that ever since we were little."

"It had to be hard," Yue said slowly, trying to imagine the North Pole as decimated as the South had to be. She couldn't though, and the worst part was that the North Pole hadn't bothered to help. The Southern Water Tribe had to sacrifice a princess in order to find any kind of help at all. But she was made of stronger stuff than Yue had ever considered that princesses needed to be made of.

She had a duty to her people. They both did.

"Lonely," Katara breathed. "It wasn't so much hard as it was lonely."

Yue nodded. They fell quiet then, and the day stretched on. Hours of sunlight and all they had to do was hold out until dark again. The Fire Nation had to withdraw at night or risk losing too many soldiers. Yue noticed that all of them watched that sun crawl across the sky, and she had to keep catching herself from thinking too much about how many people they'd already lost. How many fell each one of those slow hours? How many bodies would there be, Water Tribe and Fire Nation alike..?

Before the sun could sink, the door to the Oasis flew open. Yue jerked, standing up as men in red uniforms rushed in. Her breath caught, and before she could even move, everyone else was in motion. Suki had a golden fan out, Princess Sokka had her sword. Both Katara and Zuko had immediately fallen into bending stances. Something squeezed tight in Yue's chest as she rushed forward to put herself between the Avatar and the men. Everyone else, while determined, was calm, so she didn't let the way her heart raced distract her.

She had duties. They all did. And there was only one person that mattered in this Oasis. If she had to be the last line of defense for him while he was vulnerable, she would give her life gladly.

The men spilled into the Oasis, and they parted as one stepped out.

"Admiral Zhao," the Prince called out, and Yue blinked slightly at the familiarity there.

But of course there was familiarity. These were his men, weren't they?

"Prince Zuko." There was no mistaking the surprise there, and then, slowly, Zhao grinned. "And with your little bride, I see. You dare move against the Fire Nation? Against your father?" Zhao's voice lowered. It was almost affectionate, and it sent something colder than snow and ice through her.

"You tried to have me killed," Zuko replied, and Yue's eyes widened at the thought. "Do better next time if you don't want me turning on you."

"Oh, I'll do better this time. I'll kill you myself for this treachery. But first, I should likely return something to you, shouldn't I?"

He didn't so much as even snap his fingers. He didn't have to. His men knew what he wanted, and they shoved someone forward. Someone in blue. Blood spilled across the wooden bridge they stood on, and Zhao rolled the person— boy— over with one foot. He left his foot in the small of that back, and Yue's heart skipped a beat. Two.

"Hahn," she breathed. Her betrothed, and suddenly the necklace around her throat was a weight, something threatening to drag her down under water that she couldn't swim in. Hahn was still moving at least, but there was blood on the bridge, dripping off into the water, and when he twisted to look up, she could see bruising already apparent on his face.

"How about we talk, children?" Zhao said, and Yue sank to her knees, one hand against her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this chapter being late! I've had some things crop up in offline life, and I'm out of buffer, so I'm going to skip this next update and try to push to finish book 1. We're so close I can _taste_ it, so my goal will be to get that finished. Then we'll figure out just what I'm doing for book 2. ^^
> 
> Thanks so much as always for reading, and we'll be back not next Saturday, but hopefully the Saturday after!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Princess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1470865) by [theLiterator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator/pseuds/theLiterator)
  * [The Water Tribe Princess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3129545) by [theLiterator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator/pseuds/theLiterator)




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